The War for Fornost: Part 6
In times gone by, Fornost was the capital of the kingdom Arthedain. Woeful was the tale of this city whose inhabitants could see through the long years of war the hand of evil approach. Generations of even the long-lived Dunedain watched from the battlements as Arnor was slowly strangled by the hand of Angmar. Plague emptied its streets even before the legions of the Witch-King closed. Great was the slaughter in the streets with many a tale of doomed heroism forgotten save by those whose valor earned the kiss of a Morgul-blade. Its ruins were further defiled by the court of the lord of the Nine as it stood in the despoiled palaces, scrubbing the treasuries for something only he knew. This assemblage fled the city as it feel anew to the forces of Rivendell and Gondor but cursed were the buildings and the very walls. For the Ulaïri, the Ringwraiths had come there with Orcs and many things fouler. They had begun the digging of dens and the calling of wolves fed on the bones of the valiant dead. Shadow clung to the ruins, terror to the plazas and so it was named Deadman's Dike where like the Barrow-Downs fell things howled in the night.
These Orcs who did not flee to Carn Dûm but stayed to bedevil Arnor made their lair there and slowly rebuilt the fortifications and dug up dikes and pits. Ghulgash of Angmar knew the place well for not only he had participated in its fall and sacking but the city had acted as a dark sun for those discontent with his rule. Many an ambitious who did not dare risk his life against the aged sorcerer fled to the old capital, ready to raise bands of warriors and swagger around, pleased by the idea of further humiliating the memories of Arnor. It was unknown why the Black Numenoreans never descended from the mountains in force to rebuild the city in their image. In truth they were content in their frozen retreats in the harshness of the mountains where many secrets of the Shadow hid underground. The knowledge of ruined Fornost was unlovely to their eyes for they thought they had their fill with lore of the old Numenor whose foundered. And so the city of Arthedain had become a den of monsters. Bergud had stood there long before his attack on the remnants of Eriador and he hoped to defeat his foes there.
His flight had taken him through the Barrow-Downs and there his sorcerers had ordered sacrifices to be made to the hungry woods. The trees of the Old Forest loved to be watered with blood taken from living throat and delighted in corpses hung from their branches. And so not only wights of the Barrows, moved by evil spirits and coaxed with promises of rehousing in Fornost's palaces, but creatures of the woods followed north. Long was this journey for the host had first taken south from Bree before turning back yet they arrived in their fortress before the hosts of the free people. Orcs manned the battlements and wolves ran in the streets while wights prepared weapons as the command of sorcerers and bats filled the sky. When Bergrud looked at the road and saw that his foes had taken the pursuit, he cursed bitterly and ordered open the ancient vaults. There he and his elite forces took the garb of the proud defenders of the northern kingdom. They took for themselves adornments of true silver from the ancient guards and even blades who burned and singed their hands. Some he had his sorcerers sing spells upon them to at least make them useable but others Orcs wielded uncaring for the pain.
Against the city rode a mingled host. For the Dunedain moved like shadows cloaked and there were many of the Rangers among them. Still there were units bearing hunting spears rather than bows and even a company of riders who had learned their arts in Imladris. With them came the hosts of Bree and they were strong beyond their seeming. Most were militia trained in exercises and levied but they surrounded hardy lumberjacks whose axes often smoked in the blood of wolves and the sons of merchants in wrought steel. Even Halflings of the Breeland had come as slingers and bowmen, remembering the stories about just kings. Last came the troops of Angmar and it was strange indeed to see Orcs walk at the side of men and before them Hill-men with axe and spear and masked sneering Black Numenorean. At their head, was Ghulgash.
Before them were the gates of Fornost, broken by the Witch-King's spells and rebuilt in pig iron and blackened soot. Shortly the chieftains of the Free People conferred with one another and decided they would strike at it. For they did not fancy the escalade with ladders and the fight upon the walls. Ghulgash even proposed his high service for even as he had sung against the Terror, he could sing against the gates and the walls and let the armies pass and so it was agreed to let him try. Yet Halbarad of the Dunedain urged him to renounce the songs of Angband and the works of the shadow. Mighty was the chieftain in lore and welcome was his aid but to be part of lawful alliance with the realms of Men was to abjure the works of the Shadow. And Ghulgash who had not revealed to them, indeed to anyone save Lindir the wight, why he had engaged on the course he was in, hesitated. As he wondered, the Black Edain of his host scorned the words of Halbarad and said such songs had been sung well in downfallen Numenor.
And Gandalf the Grey had stayed in Bree to guard it against stragglers and there was none of the Wise among the counsels.
What did Ghulgash do?
[] He hearkened to the words of the Dunedain and held back much of the songs he knew. He did not summon the chill of the great north and the flame of the earth. He did not display the songs learned by his grandsire in Angband. He took the songs of Lindir, the songs who had been risen against the Shadow and thus turned to the strengthening of will rather than the destruction of things.
[] He said to himself evil would to good lead. He took not the pure songs of Angband and did not sing in the Black Speech of Mordor. Yet these he took as base for a new weaving, great and terrible. And Halbarad was dismayed and knew not what to think. For what spilled from the mouth of the Orc was neither Music nor Discord but like to the Marred Music that made the world. It was a thing of the world as it is and not as it was to be.
To explain the situation and the difference between both options. Ghulgash know some songs/spells who are purely calling upon the Music. He took most either from people like Lindir or through ransacking libraries, or even torture. Yet none of these are destruction spells because basically only Elves are into nature magic of this strength.
The second option is basically him cleansing the songs of power he knows who call upon the Discord. It's a mingled thing who is compared to what the Music ended up being, a mingling of the Discord with the Themes of Eru. There he can take it against the gates directly because he knows destruction spells.
There is no option to call upon the Discord purely because while not Morianor of the last quest, Ghulgash has at least inklings this is a bad idea. Also he is not sure the Dunedain will not try and kill him here and there if he engages in black magic before them.
