(The conclusion of a story taking place a year and a half ago - Xan's Chronicler)
Cyndwin sat outside the patched lean-to of the Silken Witch, slowly sharpening her great sword on a stone. The rasping noise seemed to echo dangerously in the cold air of an Angmar dawn. She glanced up at the sky ruefully and shivered.
Resting one slim hand on her shoulder, Xanderian spoke in low tones to her companion. "My beloved Cyndwin, what troubles you? Soon we set out and hopefully depart before long with young Hildawyn safely in our care and our time in this vile kingdom at an end."
The young Shieldmaiden smiled up at the Elleth but her eyes were still clouded. "I hate the dawn in this place, I can barely tell it from any other time of the day in Angmar. A sky of churning charcoal is unnatural, plain and simple. Beyond that....I just have a bad feeling about this Rian. I feel like that filthy castle up there keeps watching me."
Xanderian nodded and sorted her quiver as she spoke. "Don't think for a moment it isn't, daughter of the Westfold. There are things in this world, and evils that have come to dwell in Angmar, that were old when the great eye was newly opened. For the very name Angmar draws inspiration from that of foul Angband, the prison keep of Melkoth the traitor who schooled the enemy in all things vile. I feel in my soul that much of the shadow that once lived in those walls before they were cast down have come to rest in Carn Dum above us. When the Witch King took up residence in this place to lay fair Arnor low, the Brazen Scales for one were already here...when our foes at last fall to their final doom, the Scales will remain. Donark of the Vaults may hold them in his dead hand, but it is the Scales that are the true Master, and our true enemy here.
Satisfied at last with the steel's edge, Cyndwin rose just as Tara, the Silken Witch came forth from her simple tent, her walking stick firmly in her grasp. "Ah the Scales, the measure of a man's heart, of his soul, is the true coin the Scales count. They are the riches the Scales hoard in Donark, the Paymaster of Angmar's mighty vaults. As the world grows darker, so to does the power of the Brazen Scales grow fouler and further reaching, for no coin is richer then that which is stolen. Do not expect a happy result from our current pursuit, either of you. Hope, for hope is our best defense, but expect not lest the Scales barter your very disappointment back to you for a price."
The old woman started up the path towards Carn Dum, the Huntress and the Shieldmaiden falling in behind her. Cyndwin smiled to herself and whispered to her companion. "She speaks in more riddles then you do, my love...I can't make heads or tails of any of this. Just give me a skull to split so we might get the poor girl out of this fix."
Xanderian raised an eyebrow. "If our success rests on you splitting skulls, or even Heartbreaker loosing death upon the forces of Angmar, then we will be in a great deal of trouble since our foes within Angmar outnumber the stars we cannot see through cloudy skies.
Cyndwin swallowed hard and nodded. "So we walk in the front door of their fortress. Of course. That would have been my first choice in plans..."
The Elleth reached out and gripped the girl's gauntleted hand tightly. "Fear not sweet one. I swear as we walk inside together, so shall we walk out of Carn Dum together. I wager my heart upon it." Cyndwin squeezed her hand back, accepting the bond.
And so the trio climbed high and higher, the foul beasts and soldiers that protect the tower giving them free passage. The Silken Witch nodded, "There you see, expected are we my friends. We have an appointment with the Paymaster. Donark knows it is time to make a new deal."
Reaching the heavy bronze gates of Carn Dum itself, the Gates of Shadow, now standing open in anticipation, Xanderian smiled without mirth. "When last I passed this way I was already soaked in the blood of an orc army and a few giants when I reached these doors. Now we are treated as if we come for tea and Bree Ladyfingers.I am not sure which way I prefer.
Tara of Agarnaith, the Silken Witch passed her walking stick before the door and paused. "Beware my pretties, there is some glamour within the gate, a magic I ken not. A surprise is prepared for us. What say you Huntress of Imladris?"
Xanderian shrugged. "If a trap it is, then I prefer a trap sprung then a trap laying in wait. Let us press forward and see what this foul Trickster would bedevil us with. Forewarned is forearmed. Onward."
The older woman nodded and all three passed through the gate and found themselves not in the courtyard they had expected but instead in an elegant chamber high above it, draped in red velvet and basalt stone. Before them stood the pale, wizened figure of Donark the Paymaster, scion of Mordor. His bloodless hand rested on a set of brutal bronze scales, in a design far older then the fortress then sat within. In stark array to either side of the room were dozens of battle tested orcs and Angmarim Sorcerers, making clear that force was not an option before the Scales of the Paymaster.
Clearing his throat, the Paymaster of Angmar spoke in a warm, syrupy purr, younger in tone then any would expect. "I bid welcome unto you, Tara, and to your two companions. We all know why you are here, in fact you have been tardy, I first invited you some time past. Have you brought the price that the Scales demand for your prize."
"The older woman stepped forward, now standing taller then she had before. "I have, man of Mordor. I have brought before you the Elleth Huntress that you foretold would come in place of the sister. Release now the child whose coming here was my fault. She would never have sought out your foul trades if I had not filled her blonde head with stories of ancient times and dark days. Take your price and let me ease my guilt."
Cyndwin snarled and moved to draw her great sword to protect Xanderian but she dropped to her knees instead, the foul magics of the Sorcerers draining her strength. For her part, the Huntress simply stared at Donark impassively.
Xan tilted her head, and spoke, her voice falling into Sindarin."I knew well, Donark of Mordor, that you would have no reason for claiming foolish Hildawyn if not as bait for a richer prize. I also knew that to trade the sister Hilda for the sister Ynna who lacked the courage to come here herself was no profit whatsoever, and trading the girl for myself or Cyndwin was also of little profit for you. When our arrival seemed to fill Tara with sudden purpose, I knew then that we two were some part of a greater price however."
Donark nodded slowly. "Go on First Born, you seem to have deduced a great deal in this business before you arrived before my seat."
Xanderian shook her head...helping Cyndwin back to her feet. "No, the last piece did not come to me until we stood here before you, and the Silken Witch spoke of her role and regret concerning the child. You needed a way to bring her, Tara of Agarnaith, before the scales for judgment as her soul is compromised by her foolish guilt. You thought the child alone would be enough as she would so desire to free her, but she balked at the exchange. So instead you wheedled and deluded and convinced her that I was to be the price exchanged. You have learned well from your Master how to tell a sweet lie. I am not the price you seek, but just another lure, a catspaw....am I not?"
The Silken Witch stared, and spun like a trapped animal to find the way out of the chamber barred by the Sorcerers. Spinning back she snarled, "This is not the agreement you made, Donark, you cannot break your terms or the Scales will refuse your will! This I know from ancient days!"
Donark then laughed, and Cyndwin thought she had never heard a sound which filled her with more dread as she clung to Xanderian. "Foolish Witch, I abide to the letter of my terms, I said unto you "An Elven Huntress of Rivendell will come unto you, in the name of one girl of Rohan while bearing another as her lodestone. Bring her before the scales, and the price will be paid and the girl released."
Tara nearly screamed, her long toils and compromises unhinging her reason at long last. "I have performed the terms, the Elf bitch is here, TAKE YOUR PRICE AND RELEASE MY DEBT!" For generations since being driven from the ruins of her homeland before the servants of darkness she has walked between light and shadow, aiding the free people with one hand while seducing on another behalf with the other, serving both the light and the dark. Now that life on the edge of deception was proving her undoing.
Domark nodded, the Brazen Scales beginning to moan softly. "You have kept the terms, Tara, lost Princess of Agarnaith, to the letter. The elf is before the scales, but she is not the price to be taken and never was....as she surmised...you are the price desired, and that price will now be paid."
The scales moaned louder, the room was filled with a black, pulsing light...and when that light dimmed, Tara of Agarnaith, the Silken Witch of Rohan and Aughaier, was no longer there.
Cyndwin glared at Donark, her righteous anger rising. "Fiend! And what of the girl, what have you done with Hildawyn you monster??!!!"
The Paymaster laughed again and Xanderian pulled the angry Shieldmaiden close. "She will wake in her bed in simple. mudstrewn Thornhope, as if she had never left. Now my business with you two is at an end. Begone, before I reconsider your safe passage from this chamber. You have played your parts well, leave it at that.
Cyndwin made to charge the old man with a cry of rage but Xanderian restrained her, walking with quickly her to the doors of the chamber as the Sorcerers parted before them. "Hush my love... " she whispered, "..there are some battles we cannot win and this is one of them. Let us go with what success we have. We came to save the girl and she is saved and my promise to Ynna kept. The Silken Witch has suffered a fate she may not have deserved, but one she surely should have foreseen."
The heavy door closed behind the pair as they retreated down the stairs to put the fortress of Carn Dum behind them. As it did...the Paymaster rested a hand on the scales and whispered to break the sudden silence. "Now, on the account of Mans of Kheledul, Slavemaster of the Dourhand, I foreclose upon the Collateral he requires to settle his own debts...". The scales began again to moan.
And in the courtyard below, Cyndwin of the Westfold fell silent...and her entire world became bright, pulsating blue.
