Deliver

The First Black Elf gasped as he took the One Ring off his finger after using it to slip into the Unseen World and invisibly leave the Shire. With shaky hands he ran a chain through its center and put it over his head.

The loss of the absolute rush of power left him feeling hollow. The majority of the power of the greatest Maiar all in one little golden band. While wearing it, Uanor saw into the future like as easily as his sharp eyes surveyed the lands south of the Brandywine River this night.

He saw the end, and it was fucking tight.

With just one use of the Ring, the Black Elf new for certain that he was not the one to bind the great will of this so seemingly simple band. Not by a long shot. All his innate power just made him all the more vulnerable to the siren call of the One Ring, and in the end only his deep devotion to his father allowed him to peer into the truth the Ring tried to hide from him should he keep it on his hand, the inevitable and very soon betrayal to his death.

After collecting his wits fully, Uanor returned to his half-brother and sister where they camped with the family dog, and after a short rest the band set out to return south along the route they came.

On the eve before their crossing of the Isen River, the Black Elf looked at his siblings as they once more poked and prodded each other verbally, and smiled.

"Tomorrow's the day." he announced as he sat across the fire from them.

"About fucking time!" Gorgum shouted, "I was fixing to die of old age before we got any action on this quest."

"True dat." Mursha snorted, "A village of dead hummies an enthusiastic walk does not make."

"I'm so glad you are both excited about my plan to sacrifice you to the forces of Isengard and slip the noose during the fray." Uanor smirked.

Ever since they crossed the Grey Flood River at the ruins of Tharbad the Uruk Hai of Isengard maneuvered in bands of hundreds to surround them, at least a few thousand stationed across the north bank of the Isen River to prevent their crossing.

"Hell, if they manage to kill me then good on 'em." Gorgum laughed, "It means they made it a damn good time!"

"These aren't Orcs." Uanor told them, "Or even Uruks. Saruman has bred a stronger stock, almost as strong as those now bred in Mordor."

"Yeah." Gorgum grinned, "He got the survivors of Gundabad, right? Bred them to some wild fucking hummies to get the White Hand Uruk Hai?"

"Yes." Uanor nodded, "They are stronger than they were meant to be."

"Good." the pair agreed.

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Uanor flinched as another volley of arrows smacked into his siblings as they ran at the hundreds of Uruks guarding this particular stretch of river.

The charcoal skinned giants truly were almost the match of his fathers creations, uniformly over six feet in height nearing six and a half feet and bound thickly in muscle. They wielded great yew long bows and short broad bladed swords well suited for stabbing paired with arm strapped shields that they employed with excellent discipline.

Gorgum and Mursha fought as a pair of heavy tanks covered head to toe in thick articulated plate armor over full suits of chain mail and padded gambeson. In their hands came a similar pairing to the Uruk Hai. Shield and mace.

Their father used a similar set up when he took his enemies with absolute seriousness. A flanged mace to crush through stiffly armored enemies and a spiked pavise over the off hand to bolster blocking and parrying while also allowing a mean and accurate stabbing punch with the brutal spike jutting out of the bottom.

The enemy arrows found no purchase, the metal armor completely deflecting them, but the force transferred nonetheless. Gorgum hit the enemy line first, sweeping the shield and sword of an Uruk Hai down with his offhand and coming down with a helmet crushing swing of his mace while the victim's mates stabbed at him with their swords that skittered over the surface of his plate and bound up in his chain.

Mursha soon joined him and the pair moved around each other with familiarity bred by years of training and experience. Together they completely slobbernocked the enemies that swarmed around them.

"It will be up to you to get them out of there, boy." Uanor said as he stroked Damocles' dark fur from their hiding place.

The Uruk Hai blew horns to bring down their full host, but those currently engaged with Gorgum and Mursha showed their inexperienced when they over reacted to this violent distraction and swarmed the pair, opening up their blockade enough for Uanor to slip through in a blaze of fey speed.

He knew better than to rely on the One Ring to get around them, for it would betray him to go to Saruman to avoid its proper place on the hand of Thrag, bent to a new master, a more powerful and visionary master.

Thus the risk of his siblings' lives. For if they died then they died for the greater glory of their father. Gorgum and Mursha possessed the greatest chance of survival out of those sufficiently unburdened by duty to come on this quest.

Kuga the Flame of War and Uthug the Drake Hammer would have been a bigger spectacle, but also offered the least chance of survival. What a blaze of glory it would have been though for those pyromaniacs.

No, Gorgum and Mursha were the right choice. Two tanks with impeccable team work and the capacity to forcibly heal themselves with their unshakable faith in their father and also able to spring back from near fatal wounds fully healed once every three days as well.

They would survive, of this Uanor had faith.

The Black Elf ran as if with blinders through the valley that cut the White Mountains and across the Long Shore, even ignoring Dol Amorth and the Princess he longed to impregnate. Over land he ran, through water he swam, and nothing stopped him. Not hill, tree, nor mountain.

Uanor had a delivery to make.