Northern Shadow-Ice

[Sir Langon]

I am going to start a new thread that will focus on the rise of Angmar and the fall of the Dunedain in a story format.

[Sir Langon]

A/N: I own nothing! It is all either Tolkien's or EA's!

Prologue

All of the dunedain that had traveled to Rivendell soon filed into the Hall of Fire where Glorfindel sat on a chair near the fire. Glorfindel looked up at the young Dunedain and motioned for them to sit down.
"I will tell you know the story of the Rise of Angmar and the Fall of the Dunedain" started Glorfindel, "for it is important that history is not forgotten so that future generations do not repeat those events that brought ruin unto that which is good. Now then, I remember the coming of the Witch-King quite well....."

Chapter 1: The Witch-King Comes

The Witch-King sat upon his steed upon a tall hill with his tall iron crown catching the sun in that area north of the Trollshalls which men for years had called Angmar. His lieutenant, Morgomir, stood beside him leaning upon his longsword.
"What forces shall we find here master, I see nothing but snow and ice!" said Morgomir.
The Witch-King looked at him and replied in his rasping voice, "We will find trolls, and those men whom call themselves the Black Numenoreans. This wasteland have made them tough in bone and sinew and they will serve me well."
Both the Lord and his lieutenant looked swiftly as they saw a lone Troll battling many men, but this troll was armoured and was extremely skilled with his large blade. The Witch-King and Morgomir exchanged glances and then hurried down to help the troll defeat these men. Since all three of them were exceptional swordsmen, they dispatched the men quickly and effortlessly.
The Witch-King looked the troll up and down and then said "You are the most skilled troll I have ever seen, I could use you."
The troll looked at him and replied "Me Rogash! Me unite Hill and Snow troll to fight against puny men who try to make us fight. Me and trolls will fight for you if you give us meat and treasure!"
The Witch-King then said, "I am the Witch-King and I will give you all of the meat and treasure you want if you serve me Rogash, Troll of the North!"
With that Rogash beat upon his breastplate with a large hand and yelled "Rogash kill men in name of Iron Crown!"
Rogash then led the Witch-King and Morgomir to the top of a nearby crest. From there one looked down onto a large, ramshackle village of trolls, but there were two kinds of trolls, one kind was shorter and had whitish-blue skin and white hair while the other type was taller and had a greenish skin and appeared to be wearing a kind of rough leather armour, or maybe it was it's hideous hide, either way they were both quite fearsome looking and if one could see the Witch-King's shrouded face, one would have seen that it had an evil sneer plastered on it. However; the village wasn't peaceful, there was much clamour and fierce cries were heard all over and one could even see fighting amongst the kinds of trolls. Upon seeing this, Rogash bellowed loudly, "Stop fighting! Our enemy be man!" with that he leaped into the midst of the village and began beating trolls with the flat of his blade and soon they had stopped. Rogash pointed to the Witch-King and shouted "We have new master, he help us get meat and treasure! We fight for Iron Crown!" After that all of the trolls shook their weapons in the air and began bellowing.
Morgomir looked up at his master and said "Well master, I do believe that raising an army took less time than expected."
The Witch-King looked down to him from his steed and replied, "Yes it seems so, now we must bring the rest of this land under our grip!"

TBC

(A/N: My muses have been released, and they are hungry! Remember, muses feed on reviews!)

[Sir Langon]

A/N: I do not own anything in this fanfic, it's owned by Tolkien or EA

Chapter 2: Founding of Angmar

The Witch-King soon asserted his full power over the trolls and soon realized that the snow trolls were quite smart and could carry out many tasks while the main function of the hill trolls would be to fight and do manual labor. Wasting no time, he sent Morgomir and a battalion of snow trolls to reconnoiter the area, find a suitable location for a fortress and find the main encampment of the Black Numenoreans.
Morgomir soon sent back a snow troll to lead him to the fortress site. Rogash, sensing that they were about to move, ordered his troops to pack up and get into formation. This took quite a while mainly because the army was quite sizable. However, they were soon moving and because of the great speed with which trolls can move they quickly reached the site of the new fortress.
The Witch-King was quite happy when he looked into the large ravine which sloped upwards until it was three quarters of the way to the top of the ravine. This spot would be easily defensible and could provide enough space to house an army and produce supplies! He then ordered Rogash to have his trolls set up camp here and to set teams to guard and to start quarrying stone for a wall to cover the mouth of the ravine. He then rode to the top of the ravine and once there he found a half-buried fortress had already been built here!
"Rogash!" he yelled, "Get an excavation crew up here on the double!"
The shouts and commands of Rogash could be heard loudly, even from the top of the ravine and soon a team was hard at work excavating the old fortress. The Witch-King allowed Rogash to lead the excavation team while he entered the fortress to see what was still usable for the moment. He soon found that the outer facade was never really that big, it was only an entrance to the actual fortress which was itself delved into the mountains and completely intact. This was definitely a place that could be held for a long time! As the Witch-King walked the long forgotten halls of the fortress he realized that it was of Numenorean building and that it must have been built in secret in case of a war in the north, but no matter, he would make this a place of strength and horror.
When the Witch-King stepped back out into the evening sunlight, he was greeted by Morgomir.
"Sire," started Morgomir, "We have found the stronghold of the Black Numenoreans and they outnumber us more than we thought for they have pressed the orcs of Mount Gundabad into service and now thousands of orcs and hundreds of wolf riders swell their already large ranks."
"They have already marshaled an army to strike us down. No matter, they will come to this place and I will force them to join us or die!" cried the Witch-King "Have some of the snow trolls track their movements, we will be waiting for them half-way down the ravine."

The work continued and the beginnings of a wall had already been built three quarters of the way into the ravine, near the old fortress when the alert came that the Black Numenorean army was ten miles from the ravine. The Witch-King immediately ordered all work to stop and that all trolls assemble for battle. All of the hill trolls under the command of Rogash were placed half way down the ravine while Morgomir had taken half of the snow trolls and led them to the tops of both sides of the ravine where they could hurl boulders down onto the enemy. As for the Witch-King, he had mounted his horse and took direct command of the remaining snow trolls and positioned them behind the wall. These trolls would act as a cavalry and trample the enemy with their picks and large feet.

The Black Numenoreans soon arrived at the ravine and not knowing their danger, charged straight for the line of hill trolls, soon many men were dying by the long hammers of the trolls and the terrible fury of Rogash's blade. However, the battle soon began to turn and would have been lost if Morgomir had not finally let his trolls let loose their stones and boulders upon the bowmen in the back ranks of the Numenoreans. The enemy's morale soon began to break and at that moment, the Witch-King charged down the hill with his snow trolls and began to overwhelm the Numenoreans. Soon their morale broke completely and while the orcs fled, the Numenoreans just gave up and surrendered. All of Angmar was now the Witch-King's!

A/N: Feed the muse! Leave Reviews!

[Sir Langon]

A/N: Sadly, I own none of this. It's either Tolkien's or EA's.

Chapter 3: Rhudaur Falls

With the constant inflow of slaves and troops, the Witch-King's fortress, which was now called Carn Dum, was finished! He soon turned his eye to Arnor.
After the death of the last king of all Arnor, the Kingdom was split into three smaller Kingdoms; Arthedain, Cardolan, and Rhudaur. While all three kingdoms were split equally, not all three had the same strength. Arthedain was by far the strongest with Cardolan not far behind, but Rhudaur had a low population of Dunedain and controlling the local hillmen wasn't easy.
Since Rhudaur was the weakest and since conquering it would bolster his forces, the Witch-King turned his eye on the weak kingdom and was soon at work undermining it. To do this he would need to draw most of the Hillmen to fight for him so as not to risk all of his forces. To do this he made a secret alliance with Hwaldar, the Chief of the largest clan of Hillmen.

Rather than ride openly into Rhudaur, the Witch-King entered silently with a small vanguard and with the main army coming in slowly behind him. He quickly set up a camp in the hills and sent out spies to gather information.
As the spies came in, one rushed to Morgomir and quickly told him what he had to report. The information made Morgomir's already pale face even paler.
"Master," Morgomir weakly said as he approached the Witch-King, "A report has just come in that Hwaldar has been captured by the accursed Dunedain. He is being held captive in a small camp just south-west of here. The camp is only 100 strong."
The Witch-King brought his gauntleted fist down on the nearby table with such power that it broke asunder.
"Curse the Dunedain!" He cried, "We shall need to free him before we can rally the Hillmen. Ready the snow trolls, wolf riders, and my horse, we shall make a quick strike and free him."

Soon the Witch-King was silently leading a small strike force south-west across the hills. As they were riding an scout rode back and told the Witch-King that they were approaching the camp. With that he spurred on his troops, but ordered them to be silent.
With amazing speed they swooped into the unsuspecting camp trampling and slaughtering every enemy. Quickly the camp was silenced, Hwaldar released from his prison, and several soldier set to counting bodies to make sure all the men were dead.
The Witch-King turned to the wolf-rider captain and asked, "What is the count?"
"Garn! We only counted 99 tarks your majesty!" He replied, waving his sword in the air.
"Blast!," the Witch-King cried, "We shall have to start the attack as soon as Hwaldar has summoned the Hillmen! Captain, send a messenger to meet us at the central Hillman camp." The rider was soon off and the cavalry troops were riding towards the central village.
Once there, Hwaldar ran to the center of the village, held aloft his great war axe, and cried "Rise Hillmen! Now is the time to fight for the Iron Crown!" Many war cries were heard as around 250 armed hillmen surged from the clustered huts of the village. "Send riders to the outlying villages," continued Hwaldar, "Summon them to this camp!" Several Hillmen scrambled to do his bidding and the rest lined up in formation according to weapon and rank with the spearmen in front and axe throwers in back.

The scouts soon came back with the other Hillmen in tow and right behind them came the rest of the Witch-King's army. All told the count of troops numbered 3000 strong, enough to obliterate the Dunedain from Rhudaur, exactly what the Witch-King intended.


While the Witch-King was mustering his forces, the lone surviver of the camp made his way back to the largest of the Dunedain fortresses in Rhudaur and there he reported what he had seen.
Immediately a messenger was sent to King Argeleb of Arthedain that the Witch-King was attacking and all speed was needed if they were to crush him.
Luckily the messenger did not have to go far as Argeleb had anticipated this and had silently moved his forces near Rhudaur; however, he was still some miles away and he would not reach the twin fortresses of Rhudaur fast enough to reinforce them.


The Witch-King had just assembled his forces and was moving to strike the Northern fortress, but he had sent Morgomir and half of the army to the southern fortress and therefore kill two birds with one stone, as the saying goes.
Unluckily for the Witch-King, he had no knowledge of the impending Arthedain attack and when he heard the clear trumpets sounding across the hills he was filled with doubt for a brief moment, but doubt soon turned to hatred and he wheeled his forces around to crush the attack.


Argeleb turned to his troops and cried "For glory! For family! For Arnor!" With that he blew a mighty trumpet and many others joined in and he led the charge straight into the Witch-King's line and the fierceness of their initial onslaught daunted the Witch-King's army, but the arrival of the trolls from the back of the lines swiftly turned the tide and the hunters became the hunted.
While the main armies were fighting, Argeleb found the Witch-King and cried "I shall smite thee to the earth foul demon!" and with that they became locked in combat and none dared to come near them lest they be killed in the battle. Soon, Argeleb's army had been defeated and besides some soldiers that had fled, he was the only survivor of the original army. As he began to tire, the Witch-King broke his blade and picked him up by the neck, "Die now!" he murmured and he snapped the King's neck and cast his body aside like a rag doll.

Morgomir's orders had been to raze the southern fortress and when finished, assemble at the northern fortress and this was swiftly done because he had several siege engines. However, when he arrived at the northern fortress it was still standing and Morgomir, acting in behalf of the Witch-king, commenced an assault upon it as well.
Just as the gates were battered down, the Witch-King's army appeared and swept inside the fortress along with Morgomir's army and soon the entire fortress was ablaze and the army encamped outside of it. The Fall of Arnor had begun!

A/N: My muse is hungry. Feed it reviews!

[Kitaria]

((review: I enjoy this story, I find it of much interest to me... for most of the year I live in a place of snow and ice, so this some how makes me feel cozy inside....I like this feeling and yes this is a review, you may delete this if I put it in the wrong spot. You should say where you wish for the reviews to be... still like the cozy feeling.))

[Sir Langon]

A/N: I don’t own any of it.

Chapter 4: Trudging
King Arveleg had wasted no time when the news of his father’s death reached him. He immediately sent forces to defend the Weather Hills at all costs. He also sent word to Endaril, the King of Cardolan, that he would need to send forces to protect his border with Rhudaur because it had fallen to a mysterious War Lord called the Witch-King. Arveleg himself made his headquarters at Amon Sul where the chief palantir of the North was kept, and being of the line of Elendil, he would be able to unlock its hidden powers that no others could use. The war ground to a stalemate with neither side gaining land, and with heavy casualties all around.
Soon Arveleg grew tired of this stalemate, and with the help of Cardolan and the Elves of Rivendell and Lindon, he struck into Rhudaur, however this proved fruitless and he was forced back to the Weather Hills with many casualties. This would be Arthedain’s last offensive stroke against Angmar.

During the siege, the Witch-King sent a force south to take Rivendell, but as Arveleg’s offensive was turned, the Lindon elves went to Rivendell to reinforce it against the inevitable siege. The Witch-King’s army met a stiff resistance at Rivendell which was led by Elrond and Glorfindel whom none could match in battle. This siege lasted many months, and hope was fading even though the siege was slow because of the easily defendable valley. The elves decided to make one last attack against the enemy, so Glorfindel mounted his white steed Asfolath and led the lancers of Rivendell while Elrond led the ground forces.
“If they wish to destroy us they will do it at a high price!” shouted Elrond at the gate of Rivendell, “They will find us a bitter foe and let no elf fall lest he dispatch ten of his enemies!” With that the gates swung open and the Lancers charged out with Glorfindel shouting “Noro lim! Noro lim!” This translates as ‘Ride on! Ride on!’ in the common tongue. As they charged out to meet the enemy, the sun shone brightly and they armies of Angmar quailed while the army of Rivendell gained new hope and strength and many evil men, orcs, and trolls fell before they could fight back and this itself was futile because of the fierceness of the elves. Rivendell was now almost an island except for the lands over the mountains from which the warriors of Lorien came. The ensuing stalemate lasted for nearly fifty years.

‘The war had stalled after the fall of Rhudaur because or the accursed Arthedain and their new king, Arveleg!’ the Witch-King said to himself. The Witch-King’s plan had been perfect except for one thing; he hadn’t counted on such stiff resistance along the Weather Hills, and especially at the fortress of Amon Sul atop Weathertop. No matter, he would take the fortress, but how? Every attempt so far had failed. ‘I must study this fortress for awhile’ the Witch-King said to himself. He then set out, leaving Rogash and Morgomir to distract the enemy’s gaze, with a small detachment of troops to the desolate hills on the eastern side of Weathertop. Once there, he set up a small outpost and often sat on a hilltop watching Amon Sul.
This; however, was no good as one cannot see how something works unless it is being used. So the Witch-King ordered a small siege to try and take Amon Sul and the small fortress that surrounded the bottom of the hill. Several things happened as the assault force drew near and began firing their catapults: Several battalions of Rangers appeared at the back of the force and began attacking, the catapults and the crews that manned them suddenly burst into flames, and the crumbling sections of walls immediately seemed to fix themselves.
‘So,’ the Witch-King thought to himself, ‘They have a palantir, and they know how to use it, but what’s this? They are channeling its powers through accursed mallorn trees!’
The Witch-King immediately sent word to Rogash and Morgomir to bring both of their armies to his position. This took several weeks because of the siege engines, but they arrived anyway.
As the siege engines were made ready, the Witch-King briefed Rogash and Morgomir who still didn’t know about the three tress of Amon Sul. Two of these trees were within the walls of the lower fortress, but the third one had stupidly been left outside the walls, this was the one that made the walls impenetrable. As such, he instructed Rogash to arm several battalions of the swiftest snow trolls with large axes with which to fell the giant mallorn tree and to slaughter its Dunedain guards. He instructed Morgomir to set up the catapults as far as they possibly could from the walls, but still close enough that they were within range. He also instructed Morgomir to release the catapults when he gave him the signal which would be easily recognizable.
The Witch-King then mounted and sped away to the southern side of the fortress with the snow trolls close behind. They fell upon the unknowing guards and soon they were slaughtered and the trolls then began swinging their mighty axes against the tree regardless of the arrow fire from the walls of the fortress, and soon the tree was down. At that, the Witch-King let out a screech that has seldom been heard in Arnor which Morgomir took as his cue and he immediately released the catapults and a large section of wall and the main gates were soon down. Rogash and Morgomir then swept into the stunned fortress and regardless of the attacking Dunedain, they made straight for the remaining trees and they too were soon cast down. The Witch-King then swept into the back of the Dunedain with his snow trolls and soon even the tough resistance of the Dunedain was failing.
Arveleg prepared to fight the oncoming Angmar forces at Amon Sul, but as they approached, he realized that it would be futile and he gathered what remained of his guard, took the palantir, and fled from Amon Sul back to Fornost.
The Witch-King made quick work of the fortress, but he led a small force to the tower and as he entered it, he saw King Arveleg fleeing, with the Palantir!
“Arveleg is fleeing!” he cried, “Morgomir, after him!” Morgomir immediately followed the Witch-King’s command and took his riders and sped after the fleeing king. The Witch-King; however, continued his search of Amon Sul, but he quickly realized that Arveleg had fled with the palantir! No matter, he had broken the stalemate and would soon have the palantir.

(A/N: The muse is hungry like a hobbit. Feed it reviews! Oh and it's fine to review like Kit did.)

[Kitaria]

(Review: But hobbits sort of have a void for a belly... oh... I get it now! Yes I like this story a lot, it is very nice, if I remember correctly(most likely I am confuseing it with another thing...) I think that near the of the war Gondor sort of came in it to for I read something about the last king Gondor, before the line of stewarts, faced the Witch-king, but the presence of the Witch-king made the horse retreat despite its owners command to not retreat, and that made the Witch-king very mad... oh crude I think I said to much, darn you mindpower!! sorry lang I think I said to much about it... sorry again.)

[Sir Langon]

A/N: I own it not.

Chapter 5: Of Stones and Wraiths
As Morgomir sped westward to waylay King Arveleg, the Witch-King sent an urgent message to Carn Dum. The message was to the men that the Witch-King had personally selected out of the ranks of the Black Numenoreans known as Sorcerers, but right now their powers were weak and useless. This was no matter though as once Morgomir retrieved the Palantir; the seeing stone would make the Sorcerers a power to be reckoned with.
Morgomir was under extreme pressure because of the fact that King Arveleg was drawing nigh to a Dunedain fort, and if the King got within range of reinforcements, it would be extremely hard to retrieve the palantir. Luckily Morgomir had thought this out and had sent the fastest of the wolf riders to stall the fleeing King and to hold him long enough for Morgomir to reach the skirmish with the main army.
Morgomir smiled wickedly as he heard the sounds of battle not far ahead on the road. The King had been stalled. As he drew near, Morgomir could see that his small advance force was losing to the better equipped and trained Royal Guard. ‘No matter,’ though Morgomir, ‘these fools shall die.’ He then charged into the enemy with his force and quickly the tide turned and soon it was only the King that was left, but he had one last gambit.
King Arveleg held aloft the Palantir and cried, “You have come for the seeing stone, but you shall have neither me nor it!” with that he hurled the palantir into the ground at his feet and it exploded with a brilliant blue flash and both he and the palantir were destroyed; however, the palantir had only been shattered and all one had to do to heal it was gather all of the shards.
Morgomir’s face turned even whiter than it already was when the King killed himself, but it soon passed and he was ordering a camp to be set up and the wolf riders he ordered to begin searching the area immediately. It was not hard to find where the shards had landed for the palantir had broken into large pieces and they had left scorched places on the earth as well as small craters. In fact one piece was laying right where the palantir had explode, this Morgomir quickly collected and took it back to the rapidly materializing camp where he put it under a heavy guard.
Soon several search parties came back bearing shards of the palantir. Morgomir joined these to the original shard and it seemed as though there would be seven shards. He had collected four already, but when some of the parties came back wounded he knew that the remaining shards must have been collected by the accursed Dunedain. Morgomir knew his duty even though the Witch-King had given no orders; he must retrieve the remaining shards from the fort.
Morgomir knew nothing about the layout of the land or about the size of the fort so he sent out several scouting parties. The news he receive was good for it wasn’t a fortified stronghold, but a large camp enclosed by a wooden palisade wall. An evil light shown in Morgomir’s eye, he would burn the camp down and then take the shards from the ashes.
Morgomir allowed his troops to rest, they would attack at night. However, some of the troops he set to building large balls of dry, flammable material for the assault upon the weak camp. Others he had changing most of the regular arrows into fire arrows and he had a small team of trolls gathering huge clay jugs of oil to throw against the walls and into the camp.

That night Morgomir readied his army to move. He had the Black Numenorean rangers moving stealthily in front of the army taking care of any Dunedain outside of the walls. Soon the army reached the fort and the trolls hurled all of the clay jugs against the walls and into the camp and all of the jugs were followed by a lit fire arrow so that once the broke an unquenchable fire burst into existence and soon most of the southeast wall was alight and falling in and the rest of the walls were catching fire. As soon as that wall caved in Morgomir gave the order for the giant balls to be released and as soon as the balls reached the fire they too caught fire and began causing havoc as they rolled through the fort catching everything on fire.
As expected the assault took the fort completely unawares and soon all of the Dunedain were dead, dying, or fleeing and none of them had given half a though about the palantir shards. Morgomir quickly descended into the camp as the fires were dying and as he went, his soldiers finished off any remaining soldiers. In that fashion, Morgomir came to the somehow untouched main hall of the camp where the shards were assuredly being kept. He strode into the hall and immediately he caught sight of that which he was looking for, the palantir shards, they had been placed near the head of the hall on a table and as soon as he reached it, he took the shards and left. When the army reached the camp it stopped only long enough to pack up and soon they were riding back to Amon Sul and the Witch-King.
Morgomir and his army arrived back at the ruins of Amon Sul the next morning. As his army was unpacking to camp inside the ruins of the fortress, Morgomir rode to the ruins of the great tower of Amon Sul and entered it. Inside the Witch-King was meeting with Rogash, Hwaldar, and the chief sorcerer, Orrin.
“Master,” Morgomir started as he handed the palantir fragments to the Witch-King, “I have retrieved the Palantir and the accursed King is dead. Unfortunately he killed himself and broke the palantir in the process.”
The Witch-King took the fragments and placed them together in his hands. “That will be no problem” he calmly said as the fragments reformed. The others at the table suddenly felt a new power surge into the Witch-King as the fragments reformed.
“Now,” he began, “we can incorporate the souls of their dead kings into our armies. Orrin, take the palantir and use it to increase the power of your sorcerers, you will find that both your and their powers will have tripled.”
“Yes master.” Said Orrin as he bowed low after taking the palantir, and with that he swept out the door of the tower.
“Hwaldar, you will take your Hillmen and take the Barrow-Downs, Morgomir and Rogash will follow closely behind with the sorcerers to help you maintain hold of them.” commanded the Witch-King.
“Yes master. Hail the Iron Crown!” all three of the lieutenants cried as they saluted their King. They then took to their armies to prepare them for the journey ahead.

There was a dense fog on the downs and the hill tops looked as islands amidst an ocean of white while the young captain Caftan stood atop the Barrow of the high-kings. Another day amid the ‘haunted’ hills would bring boredom. Unfortunately the air was pierced by a wild war cry and followed by many others and soon an army was surging through the Barrows. The young captain could only grab his horn and sound a retreat to their main camp before he had to flee because of the encroaching army.
Caftan had already formulated a strategy to retake the Barrows, but with the small battalion he had at the main camp, it was nearly impossible. He would have to allow the blasphemous Hillmen to hold the Barrows for awhile, but this wait time was not to be long for the Dunedain army stationed at the barrows could muster quickly and soon Caftan had assembled his small army and had explained his battle plan to his lieutenants.
The army was soon one the move, but only the wild and wary animals would mark their passage as their woodcraft was such that they made no sound and were extremely hard to see. Soon they were in formation at various points around the outer edges of the Barrow-Downs.
A high, clear trumpet sounded and the Dunedain army was upon the Hillmen, fortunately for them they were to remain at a state of readiness until Rogash and Morgomir arrived. The battle soon joined and both sides were fighting their hardest. Hwaldar and Caftan were locked in battle with neither of them gaining the upper hand, but with both sustaining wounds.
As the Dunedain began to overpower the Hillmen, the loud braying of orc and troll horns was heard. Even at the sound of the orc horns the hardiest of the Dunedain quailed and Hwaldar gained the upper hand on Caftan, but the Hill Chief didn’t kill the young captain, he would allow Morgomir to deal with him. With that in mind, he bound Caftan up and put him under guard.
The battle was quickly over with none of the Dunedain except Caftan surviving, and soon a camp was set up on the downs with a Sorcerer and his Acolytes stationed on each Barrow so that they could corrupt the Barrows and raise the spirits inside as Wraiths to do the Witch-King’s bidding.
Morgomir, Rogash, and Hwaldar met atop the central Barrow and began discussing their next move. However, they had no need to discuss this for Rogash quickly brought up that the Witch-King had ordered them to hold the Barrows until the corruption was complete. Hwaldar then ordered Caftan to be brought up to the hill. Soon he was tossed down in front of the lieutenants, but he stood up and held his head proudly.
“What is this?” asked Morgomir.
Hwaldar pointed to the man, “This is the young Dunedain captain with whom I fought, I deemed him too valiant a man to die. If you take my meaning.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Morgomir with an evil sneer spreading across his pale face, “Yes, I think you are right good Hwaldar.” Morgomir swiftly drew a long dagger and stabbed Caftan near the heart. “Now,” continued Morgomir, “You will become a wraith and serve the Iron Crown!”
Caftan’s eyes suddenly became wide as he began turning white, the Morgul blade had done its work swiftly and soon the once proud captain was a wraith and one of the Witch-King’s deadliest servants.
“I will serve the iron Crown.” The wraith whispered in his scratchy voice.
“I name you Karsh! Serve the Iron Crown well!” cried Morgomir.

(A/N: Reviews are good for Muses.)

[Kitaria]

(Review: I know this isn't the end, but I want to know what happens, I don't want to resort to begging, and I still like the story... on the side note for now I have snow Yay!.)

[Móreadhiel]

(cool i like it....)

[Sir Langon]

A/N: No Dr. Tolkien, I’m not done yet.

Chapter 6: Elven Riposte
All that was left for the Witch-King to do was destroy Fornost. It was unnecessary to take Annuminas as it was sparsely populated and under a light guard, not to mention that no one important was there. Unfortunately, his armies were tired and dispersed, he would have to get fresh troops and regroup. So, he sent word to his armies to post light guards on the borders and withdraw the his fortress of Carn Dum.

Elrond looked out from the high tower in Rivendell, ‘It was good that I have made preparations.’ He thought to himself. He walked out of the tower and approached Glorfindel, his friend and the greatest warrior he had.
“Mellon nin,” he began, “Are your lancers and warriors ready to move out? The Witch-King has made the fatal mistake of returning to Carn Dum. We will need to take the fortress before he arrives.”
Glorfindel looked up at Elrond from sharpening his sword, “Yes, my army is ready, so are those of Mithlond and Lothlorien. We will be outnumbered, but so it always is when we fight the minions of evil. We will depart immediately.” Glorfindel then took a nearby horn and sounded it loudly. Then, he and Elrond mounted their horses and rode to the head of the column. The Elven armies were on the move.

Hwaldar and Rogash had been campaigning in northern Arnor after the defiling of the Barrows which meant that they were the first to enter Carn Dum with its three rings of massive ice covered, black walls greeting them like foul teeth rising out of the ground. The two armies had met upon the road and Hwaldar and Rogash went to the front of the column.
Rogash tilted his huge head back and cried, “Open gate, Rogash and Hwaldar back!” The gates trembled slightly from his yell and then the huge iron doors began to creep open and the armies began passing in.
The armies had passed half way in when a high clear trumpet was heard. The Black Numenoreans and other scum that filled the ranks of Angmar had not been challenged openly in several years and they began to tremble, but soon the undercaptains regained control of their battalions and swirled the back ranks around to meet whatever foe was coming up the ravine. However, it was too late because as they were turning, 300 Elvish lancers, including Glorfindel, crashed into the ranks with their spears and swords darting back and forth slaughtering many troops.
Neither the gate guards, nor Rogash and Hwaldar were stupid, the iron gates immediately slammed shut to keep the furious Elves out because such a charge could cause a rout of both armies before they could be mastered. However, even as the Elvish swordsmen came to the line of battle and the archers lined up, the Angmar soldiers that were locked outside of the fortress turned and began a desperate battle with the Elves so that they might hold them back long enough for the gate to open so that they could escape the bright-eyed elves. It was no use though, the Elves had already evened the numbers outside of the walls and the dwindling numbers of Angmar soldiers left outside the walls were doomed.
As the Elven archers mopped up the remaining soldiers, the swordsmen and lancers were forced from the walls by a constant barrage of arrows. No matter though, several siege engines were on the way and the walls wouldn’t last. All that was left was for the elves to knock the walls down and storm the fortress. The trebuchets were soon ready to fire, but it was time for Rogash to make a counter-attack.
The gates of Carn Dum flew open and Rogash along with 100 of the biggest snow-trolls ever bred in the northern wastes charged toward the Elvish lines to destroy the trebuchets. As they were approaching, a phalanx of Mithlond pikemen formed in front of the charging snow-trolls. This; however, did nothing to daunt the snow-trolls, Rogash was with them and he would lead them to victory. As Rogash crashed through the phalanx he made no move to try and kill the pikemen except those in his way; his objective were the trebuchets that had already started firing on the walls. Although the snow-troll ranks were beginning to diminish, they reached the trebuchets and destroyed most of them before Rogash, and what was left of the snow-trolls, was forced to retreat to the fortress. Unfortunately for the Elves, Rogash had done what he wanted to do; most of the trebuchets were destroyed and there was no telling when the Witch-King and Morgomir would arrive.
Elrond called a council behind the trebuchets, which were still firing, of the leaders of the armies.
Elrond looked at the battle-worn leaders and began, “It looks as though the Witch-King might enclose us in this ravine and if there is no way out besides the way we come in, we must retreat now.”
Rumil, the leader of the Lothlorien army, pointed toward the south-eastern ravine wall and said, “There is a little known pass over on that wall, if we must leave quickly, it will serve.”
“That is good, we will continue with the siege until we are forced to retreat.” said Elrond.

The remaining trebuchets were having a hard time destroying the walls because they were covered in a sort of iron plating, but soon one section was becoming weaker and Glorfindel and the lancers mounted up to charge through it once it was down.
They didn’t have long to wait and when it came down, they charged with the swordsmen and pikemen running behind them. Unfortunately, Hwaldar noticed the wall weakening and posted a battalion of hill-trolls with some Rhudaur spearmen and axe throwers behind it. So, when the lancers came charging in, they were met with stiff resistance. Glorfindel quickly realized the situation and he let all of his powers show while he was fighting and the enemy was daunted. But Hwaldar sensed that this lone elf would be the bane of Carn Dum and he took a spear from a nearby spearman. With a mighty heave he threw the spear over the ranks of friends and foes and struck the wretched elf in the thigh forcing him to retreat.
From that point, the Elvish attack began going sour and they beat a hasty retreat to a small camp near the escape route on the south-western ravine wall. However, the Angmar armies did not leave the fortress to attack the flagging Elvish army, they were going to leave them for the Witch-King to deal with.
And they did not have long to wait for soon the braying of crude orc horns were heard and two huge armies with the Witch-King and Morgomir at their head came charging into the ravine with all manner of troops. At seeing this, the Elves were filled with dismay and Elrond ordered the evacuation of the Elvish army through the hidden escape route.
The army began disappearing, slowly at first because the wounded and the lancers were the first to leave with Rumil and the leader of the Mithlond army leading them. Glorfindel and Elrond; however, stayed behind with several crack battalions of footmen and archers to protect the backside of the army.
The Witch-King and Morgomir crashed into the defensive lines and as they were locked in combat, Karsh entered the battle. He quickly spread dismay throughout the section of the Elvish army he was attacking and that section began to crumble. Soon, the entire Elvish army began to rout and they ran into the escape passage with little thought but saving their own lives.
Elrond, Glorfindel, and the highest of Elrond’s house stood firm at the entrance however and the Witch-King stopped the attack and rode forth with Morgomir, Karsh and several of his undercaptains.
“Stupid elf,” the Witch-King said to Elrond, “did you earnestly think that you could defeat my armies? You shall die here and now!”
Elrond looked at the Witch-King with pure hatred and said “I think not.” With that, he called down a massive tornado that blocked the passage into the escape route and he, along with the other Elves, began the escape while the Witch-King was forced to retreat. In addition to stopping helping Elrond escape, the tornado caused rocks to fill the entrance to the escape route, sealing it forever.
“Blast!” Morgomir cried, “That maddening Elf has blocked the passage and ensured his escape!”
“Do not worry Morgomir,” the Witch-King said, “He will not be able to muster the numbers to challenge me again. All that is left to take is Fornost, we shall attack soon.”

(A/N: Love it. Hate it. Leave a review.)

[Kitaria]

(review: I still like the story, so interesting to me... so ya so keep up the good work.)

[Sir Langon]

A/N: Props to Tolkien, it’s his.

Chapter 7: The Beginning of the End
The Witch-King had rode up to the top of a nearby mountain along with his lieutenants to scout out the terrain. It had taken many years to push the Dunedain into the small pocket of resistance that was Fornost. Although the snow on the mountain was blowing particularly hard, both the Witch-King and Morgomir could see for miles around. Unfortunately, Rogash, Hwaldar, and Karsh could not; however, all of them could make out the huge fortress-city of Fornost in the distance.
“Blasted snow.” grumbled the mighty troll, “it not cold, but no can see.” He continued to grumble, but the others just ignored it; no one felt like flying off the mountain.
“Sire,” began Morgomir, “if I may suggest, the best course of action, that I can see, is to let myself and Hwaldar, along with Karsh, take a preliminary strike force to set up a base camp in front of the city so that we can hold them inside the city until you arrive with Rogash and the siege engines.”
“That is an excellent strategy, you shall also take some of the sorcerers with you to sow fear in their minds.” replied the Witch-King. He then began the long ride to their temporary base camp. The snow did not let up as they rode, ‘Good’ thought the Witch-King, ‘this weather will make my soldiers fiercer and make Arvedui’s soldiers sluggish and weak.’

Arvedui had inherited the throne of Arthedain from his father Araphant who had tried to re-establish a connection with Gondor; however, this brought no help to the Northern Kingdom for Gondor was under attack by the Wainriders of Rhun. So, it was up to him to defend the last remnant of Arnor from the Witch-King. ‘No wonder I am named “Last King” for I will certainly be the last King of Arnor.’
However, he did not once stop trying to find a weakness in the Witch-King’s army, even now, there were scouts looking for his army, rumored to be south of the city, poised to strike. He looked out across the northern horizon from the tallest tower in Fornost trying to find the Witch King for he, as his forefathers, was far-sighted, but the snow that was coming down was thick and impeded his vision to the point of frustration. He continued to stand in the tower and the gates suddenly opened and a small band of scouts came quickly into the city.
Arvedui raced to the bottom of the tower and at the door he was met by a ranger clad in winter armor that was still wet with snow that had been melted by the fires in the main hall of the fortress.
“I have some good news, and also bad news as well; it seems as though one is never unaccompanied by the other.” The ranger began as Arvedui led him to a small table near a fire, “We have located the armies of Angmar and they are to the east of us; however, almost all of their battalions are there and they are poised to strike us with all the fury of the North!”
“That has got to be around 60,000 troops,” gasped Arvedui, “how did they muster such an army, we have only 5,000 and they have many trolls. But more importantly, how can we even try to fend them off?” Arvedui started into the fire as he mused and during that time another ranger came in, whispered in his captain’s ear, and left.
“Sire,” he began, “I have just received word that not even half of their army is forming a sort of vanguard made out of crack soldiers to trap us in the city so that the slower main army can get to use with their siege engines.” The captain still looked grim for he knew that even as such, they had little hope of lasting out.
“Good, good.” Said Arvedui, “We could possibly rout this part of their army, but all of our troops would be taxed to exhaustion and no one would be left to defend the city, we shall just have to use rangers to ambush them and then run to dwindle their numbers. Captain, take your men and another squad to ambush them.”
“At once my liege,” the captain said. He then stood up, saluted, and left to prepare his troops.

Morgomir knew that eventually the Dunedain would find their position and learn of their plan; that was the way it always was. So, he immediately readied both his and Rogash’s armies and set them on the march at a double pace. Luckily, the trolls were swift when pushed and could keep up with the Black Numenoreans for soon they were approaching the main road that led to the gates of Fornost.
Suddenly a high clear trumpet was heard and the sky began to rain arrows, the longbow arrows of Dunedain rangers. However, the armies were all composed of war-bitten veterans and soon the armies began a swift counterattack into the forest, but they found no enemy, they had already disappeared into the snow. ‘Blasted Dunedain,’ thought Morgomir, ‘They always disappear like that.’ He swiftly ordered several battalions of Dark Rangers to fan out through the forest at the sides of the army to keep the Dunedain away.
As it was before, this strategy worked and every so often a scream would be head and cheers would erupt from the army. In this fashion they soon reached a clearing in front of the fortress of Arnor and soon a base camp was being erected.
Once completion of this was achieved, Morgomir finally took a look at the massive fortress. The outer walls had been built upon high earthen ramparts that would impede even the staunchest siege. The massive gates were built so that one had to pass through a gauntlet of tower lined walls that would slaughter many troops. Also on the fortress were many trebuchet towers, which would keep the troll-powered, stone-throwers at bay until they too were taken care of. Upon further inspection, Morgomir found that the high, white walls were made of a type of marble that Morgomir had never seen. The red embattlements gave the walls a slightly red tint which made the tower in the center of the fortress glow like a spike of silver in the pale winter sun which had recently come out.
Morgomir’s first thought was of despair, but the realization that if the fortress were attack systematically, it would be only of matter of time before Arthedain was finally destroyed brought a wicked grin to his pale face. He would keep the rats in the cage, but the Witch-King would kill them.

Morgomir had not long to wait, for when pushed hard, trolls move with terrifying speed and soon the full army was encamped outside the southern wall. However, no troops moved to the sides of the fortress for none of these walls would allow passage in or out and none of them would allow the soldiers to be out of range of the trebuchets.
Rogash quickly had the stone-throwers brought up and had them all firing at the trebuchet towers. Unfortunately for him, the marble was extremely hard and was not giving way, so Rogash ordered all stone-throwers to attack one target until its destruction and the trebuchets quickly came down leaving holes in the walls; however, none of the troops could climb the earthen rampart and the holes were of no consequence, they would have to storm the gate.
So, Rogash turned the stone throwers onto the gate to level it for it would be suicide to try and take it with a ram because the inner walls were lined with Dunedain bowmen armed with giant longbows. However, Rogash wasn’t stupid; he knew that if the stone throwers occasionally lobed a stone onto the walls, the Dunedain rats would stay down and troops could mass in front of the gate.
Unfortunately for the Witch King, Arvedui wasn’t stupid either, the gates of Fornost had been built by the Dwarves and had were enchanted so that they would not break under the barrage of the trolls, or any other siege weapon for that matter. Soon, the Witch-King’s army, along with Hwaldar’s, crested the hill and filled the clearing with a terrible army that filled every heart within Fornost with despair. The Witch-King swiftly left the column and rode down to where Rogash stood before the gates.
“What is the meaning of this?” the Witch-King hissed at the massive troll standing before him. “Are your trolls too weak to break a measly gate?!”
“No lord,” rumbled Rogash, “Gates are Dwarf made. Got magic, no can bust by any troll!”
The Witch-King let out a low, evil hiss and rode to the gates behind which stood hundreds of spearmen and archers, ready to fight to the death. The Iron Crowned King held aloft his mighty scepter and let forth the most terrible screech that even those trolls that stood near him flinched and cowered before its power and at that instant, the once proud gates of Fornost burst asunder and the evil army poured into the city with their weapons darting back and forth slaughtering the defenders.

However, some of the captains were of noble Numenorean blood and had no fear of this Witch-King or his armies and soldiers rallied to them, the chief of these was Aralder of the line of Ohtar, squire of Isildur and survivor of the orc ambush. Aralder stood wearing his bright Numenorean armor holding a banner in one hand and his longsword in the other rallying all of the nearby soldiers to him and come they did for soon he was standing in a courtyard blocking one of the inner gates of the fortress with hundreds of soldiers around him.
“We shall not let them pass!” he cried, “And if they do pass, it will be only after every one of us is dead and gone to our forefathers in the afterlife! For the King!” At this he swung his sword in the air and a volley was released into the horde of orcs and men charging them with Hwaldar at their head. But the numbers of the enemy were too great and soon they were pressed against the gate with swords and spears flitting to and fro dispatching many orcs. Hwaldar soon had the upper hand and engaged Aralder in one-on-one combat.
“Heh heh heh, stupid Numenorean.” Hwaldar cackled, “You should have joined the Witch-King, we could have used your skill, but now, I’ll have to kill you.” He then began fighting Aralder with his huge battle axe and soon he caught Aralder in the leg, knocking him to the ground. However, he hit him with the flat of the axe head and Aralder took his sword and drove it home into the evil Hillman’s chest.
“No, it is I that shall dispatch you, swine!” cried Aralder. He then drew his sword from Hwaldar’s body and continued fighting. Fortunately, Arvedui had seen his plight and had sent a battalion of Royal Guards to get Aralder out of his hopeless position and soon the gate swung open to receive Aralder and his battered troops into the safety of the inner level of Fornost.

The rest of the Siege did not go so well for the Dunedain, many brave captains and soldiers fell to troll blades and iron arrows and they were soon pushed back to the Citadel level of Fornost in the very center of the city where the only escape was through the locked sewers.
The King had watched most of the battle progress from his tower and now he was at the entrance to the sewers, encased in his finest armor with Aralder at his side.
“Aralder, my friend,” Arvedui began, “I have known you for many long years and I want you to know that the end has come for Arthedain and Arnor. I will flee with what few people we have saved through the sewers to the Ice Bay of Forochel to await a ship to rescue us. I want you to travel to Mithlond and send a ship to rescue us, after that I want you to guard my son who at the moment lives at the Grey Havens with Cirdan the Shipwright and continue waging war against the Witch-King until such a time as he can be removed, the people I send with you will become Rangers and protect the lands after Angmar falls. Also, I will send with you an extra battalion of Rangers to guard the peaceful land of the Shire where the Halflings live.”
Aralder stood in thought for a moment and finally replied, “Lord, though I would much rather travel with you; I shall do as you bid and protect your son. If we do not see each other again, we will look for each other in the afterlife.” With that, he led a battalion of rangers down into the sewers and took the southern branch of it and began the long journey to Mithlond. Arvedui helped herd the rest of the people they had saved into the sewers and once everyone was in, he went in and seal the door behind him shut and began the long cold journey north to Forochel where he would die in the ice after befriending the men who dwelt there.
Aralder, on the other hand, was successful in his mission and soon Aranarth, Arvedui’s son, became the first Chieftain of the Dunedain and the lands around Mithlond and the Shire became less dangerous and the Hobbits remained oblivious to the danger that closed them in on all sides like an ocean of evil.

The Witch-King was surprised that the resistance soon just ended within the city for he knew of no way out of the city other than the main gate. His armies, once given the order to stop the attack and set up camp within the city, began looting and destroying every corner of the city turning it into an evil and haunted place which would later be known as Dead Man’s d**e.
‘Arthedain is mine now, and yet I do not feel safe, I feel that I will be defeated and driven out of the North before long.” The Witch-King mused to himself while pacing in the topmost room of the highest tower in Fornost. He was uneasy because Morgomir soon discovered the sewers and he knew that word would eventually get to Gondor some time, sooner or later. The Witch-King looked toward the gap in the Misty Mountains and Gondor from the tower’s balcony.
“They will come soon.” He muttered.

(A/N: Come on, leave a review, it makes me write better.)

[Kitaria]

(Review:very nice, very nice indeed... I say indeed a lot don't I? ... But thats a different matter, continue on with your story. Your very good at things like this, I am so-so with writeing stories, maybe I should write one, one day... maybe... p.s. I still hate the cold.)

[Móreadhiel]

looks cool, sorry im never here.....