The horse's dark coat with streaked with foaming sweat as it cantered over the rocky ground, straining to keep up the pace the rider demanded. Abrazir had ridden for days now, north back through the Ettenmoors towards Angmar. He was careful to not follow the exact route as the Ranger had spied them but also had to keep from going too far off the path. The steed was tired and it took the whip to keep up the pace. He was worn to the bone himself, the rain had come again and soaked through his cloak, the wind brisk across the open country. Finally, he made it to the Hoarwell that cut through the land and paused to let the horse catch it's wind.
Abrazir dismounted, squatting next to the river to drink, he looked at the blue humped mountains ahead of him. There was a few paths through the highlands that would lead to Angmar, wild and over grown but still marked from the armies of old marching down into the lands of old Arnor. He splashed water on his tired eyes and took a few moments to eat a hard biscuit. He led the horse over the fast moving, cold river and remounted, making for the mountains in the distance.
By the time Abrazir made his way past the sickly springs that reeked of sulpher, both he and the horse were much leaner and exhausted. He could not longer push the beast past slow trot and no whip or heel would make it go any faster. He settled for it and finally arrived at Donnvail, demanding to speak with the chief immediately. Domongart met with him, Zorzimril's father Dolguzagar sat next to him in the advisor's chair. Abrazir felt a nervousness speaking before the powerful man, an uncomfortable and unfamiliar sensation. Put a sword in his hand, and Abrazir would feel at home to slay any before him but diplomacy was never something he felt at ease with. Clearing his throat, he accepted the ale given to him and drank deeply, both to slake his thirst and to gather courage.
"What news does my daughter send?" the Black Sword asked, leaning forward and pinning the banner man with his slate grey eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Abrazir replied bluntly, "She has taken the offer from the Creoth chieftain and become his ally...and his wife."
Domongart raised his bushy eyebrows and Dolguzagar's face flickered with surprise but he sensed something else, "And?"
"She decided that Gorlakon's plan to free the people of Rhudaur to be an admirable one and she has committed our armies to this."
"What do you mean 'free' the people of -" Dolguzagar began to demand before his older brother cut him off.
"I think I should be asking those questions," Domongart said and looked at the messenger. "So what was this plan?"
Abrazir gave him a short run down of the plans Gorlakon had to use Carn Dum and in the end free the people from the heavy iron collar. He spoke of numbers and warriors, how well the Creoth were trained and the fortress they occupied. The chief listened and then rubbed his finger under his lip, looking thoughtful before he burst into laughter. Smacking the arm of his chair, he chortled, "That Creoth man has a set on him, I'll give you that. While it was not Zorzimril's place to dictate our position, I did give her control over the negotiations. Hmm, it is a tempting idea is it not, brother? Be completely free...to have land that is not poisoned and watch our people prosper."
"We do fine as it is and thanks to the Iron Crown for that," Dolguzagar snapped, "This is treachery and treason, we are above such things!"
"Are we?" Domongart looked slyly at him, "Are we so fine and noble? We killed our own for that bloody Iron Crown, for my chiefdom did not come cheap."
"They were cowards, Crannog is a softhearted fool and so it seems my daughter is as well!" Dolguzagar rose, his angular face cast in flickering shadow by the torch light, "We owe everything to Carn Dum, the Angmarim have a place for us."
Domongart snorted, "That they do, brother. But what if we took for ourselves a place above what they wish to hand us? We could rule this land and others to the south, better land like our nephew here told us about. Why be content with scraps from the master's table when we could be feasting at the head?"
The Black Sword glared down at the chief, "You sent us to war with our kin because you said Carn Dum was owed our allegiance. We broke away, you took for yourself the mantle of chief and spat on the tradition of the Trev Gallorg in order to serve the Iron Crown. I stood by you the entire time because you insisted it was in our tradition to serve Carn Dum and now this?!"
The prominent vein in his forehead pulsed as he shouted at the heavyset man, Dolguzagar was infuriated but Domongart merely shrugged. He pushed himself off his throne chair and stood up, now taller than his younger brother. "I did what I had to do to seize power. Whatever it takes, I will keep this mantle and gain a crown. I will win more glory than any man can remember. What is more glorious than freedom and better land? Your daughter did well, she saw the opportunity and took it, as I would have."
Grinding his teeth, Dolguzagar shook his head, "I never knew I had such treacherous dogs in my family and one of my very own get."
"Enough!" the chief bellowed, "Do you still follow me, then brother? Are you my right hand or are you turning away from your own blood? You are most loyal, Dubhan...but who will you stay loyal to?"
His dark eyes glittered as he watched the struggle on his stiff necked brother's face. Dolguzagar shook his head, "Don't call me that. I've taken a name."
"Why do you not wish to be called what our father named you? You rather cling to your master's boot and take names of a dead language that no one here speaks. I understand you have a great love of history and pride of what you think runs in our blood but tell me, what matters more, history or the future? Frankly, I'm tired of watching our children starve." The chief looked at him pointedly, idly touching one of the human finger bones that was plated in gold. The hand had belonged to a ranger and the gold to Carn Dum.
Dolguzagar's lips disappeared into a line and he rubbed the black beard on his chin, "I must think on this."
"Then think quickly, because as soon as he has rested, I'm sending Abrazir to treat with the Gallorg," Domongart replied, "We will be one tribe again and we shall win our freedom from all yokes. No more will lord over us as we unite with our long lost kin."
