Elder Scrolls True Daughter of Skyrim

[[you should look up Shadow's Call in Orario]]

As we approached Orthanc, the looming tower cast long shadows over the flooded ruins of Isengard. The water was still and dark, the twisted remains of Saruman's machinery half-submerged, rusted, and broken. Standing at the tower's edge was Saruman himself, a figure still proud, his once-powerful aura seeming tarnished in the aftermath of his downfall.

Gandalf led the way, his staff raised, his gaze unwavering as he looked up at Saruman. The rest of us gathered around, our gazes shifting between Gandalf and the fallen wizard. Gandalf's expression was grim but resolute; this was not a meeting between friends but rather the closing of a chapter in a long, bitter struggle.

Saruman looked down at us, his face twisted with scorn. Even now, with his stronghold in ruins, he maintained an air of superiority, as if his defeat was somehow beneath him.

"You still come here, Gandalf?" Saruman's voice dripped with contempt. "Even after all that has transpired, you still think you've won something here?"

Gandalf did not flinch, his expression unyielding. "I have come to offer you one last chance, Saruman."

I could feel the tension building between them, the weight of centuries of rivalry pressing down. But as Gandalf and Saruman spoke, I found myself tuning out. The details of their grievances, none of it mattered to me. What mattered was the stone that I could see faintly glinting in Saruman's hand, almost hidden in the folds of his robes.

The orb. The palantír.

I didn't fully understand what it was or how it worked, but I knew enough to recognize its value. The others seemed focused on the exchange between Gandalf and Saruman, but my attention was locked onto that sphere. It would be useful, far more than any of Saruman's ramblings.

Saruman sneered, gripping his staff tighter. "You are fools, all of you. The armies of darkness are not so easily beaten. Your precious Fellowship will crumble, and your realms will fall. You cannot stop what is coming."

His words might have stirred fear in others, but they did not affect me as I knew how this would end. Saruman's threats felt hollow, his power a shell of what it had once been. I focused on the orb, my mind already calculating how I'd store it in my system once I got my hands on it.

Gandalf held his ground, his voice steady as he countered Saruman's arguments. "Your lies will hold no sway here, Saruman. The time of your power is over."

A loud crash interrupted the conversation, and my gaze snapped back to Saruman. Gríma Wormtongue had appeared behind him, his face twisted with desperation and rage. His movements were erratic, his loyalty to Saruman clearly on the verge of breaking.

"You have betrayed us all, Saruman!" Gríma shouted, his voice filled with an anger that seemed to have been simmering for far too long.

Saruman turned on him, his expression a mix of fury and disgust. "You miserable worm! Do you think you can challenge me?"

The rest of us watched as Gríma raised a dagger, his hand shaking but resolute. Saruman sneered, clearly not believing Gríma would have the courage to strike. But as they argued, the tension finally snapped. In one swift movement, Gríma plunged the dagger into Saruman's back.

Saruman's face contorted with shock and pain, his body shuddering as the blade sank deep. He staggered, his grip on his staff faltering. The staff splintered, its power dissipating in a burst of sparks that briefly lit up the dark water below. The palantír slipped from his hand, tumbling from the tower and into the water below with a loud splash.

As Saruman's body fell, as Legolas shot an arrow and killed that worm, crashing down from the tower to the water below, I felt no remorse. The wizard's death was nothing more than the end of a threat, a final stroke in a long, twisted story of betrayal and corruption. It was over.

The orb bobbed in the water for a moment before sinking, but I moved quickly, my hand reaching out toward the glint of its surface. Before anyone else could act, I waded into the shallow water, retrieving the orb and holding it securely. It was cold and smooth in my hand, but there was no dark pull, no sinister whisper. Just the quiet weight of something powerful. Without hesitation, I opened my system and stored it within, the orb vanishing from sight as I tucked it safely away.

When I returned to the group, Gandalf was watching me with a hint of curiosity, but he didn't say anything. His gaze returned to Saruman's lifeless form, the water beginning to ripple around it, as if the very earth was reclaiming him.

Gandalf's gaze softened, perhaps with a touch of pity. "A sad end to such an old friend," he murmured.

I looked away, not particularly moved by Gandalf's sentiment. Saruman had chosen his path, and the consequences were his to bear. Whatever he and Gandalf had once shared, whatever bonds had been broken, that was for them to mourn, not me.

The others seemed equally unphased, Aragorn's expression resolute, while Gimli and Legolas looked on with hardened eyes. There was no room for regret here, no place for second chances. Saruman's death was simply a step toward what needed to be done.

As I looked out over the flooded, scarred landscape of Isengard, a hollow ache settled in my chest. The Ents towered silently around us, their faces etched with sorrow so profound it was nearly palpable. Their sadness reverberated through me, a heavy, ancient pain that spoke of deep loss.

The thought struck me suddenly, a pull to do something I'd never attempted on such a scale. I felt the Green Lady magic stirring within me, responding to the devastation surrounding us. The land needed healing, a rebirth. And maybe, just maybe, I could help.

Turning to Gandalf, I murmured, "Do you think… I could try to bring some life back here?"

He studied me, his face softening as he saw the resolve in my eyes. "A worthy endeavor, Ellehish," he said, his voice thoughtful. "But this magic will require more strength than you alone possess."

I glanced out at the Ents, their massive forms blending with the landscape, rooted as deeply in this place as the trees and earth. They could feel my intent; their wise, sad eyes watched me in quiet understanding. I took a deep breath, and Gandalf placed a gentle hand on my back, his touch warm and steady. "I will aid you as best I can," he said, his voice low. A warm surge of energy flowed into me, his own strength bolstering my reserves.

Closing my eyes, I reached out with my magic, letting it flow from me into the ground, seeking any remnants of life that might still linger beneath the devastation. The Green Lady magic stirred within me, weaving through the waterlogged soil, connecting with the dormant roots hidden below. I focused on stirring them, willing them to wake, to push through the heavy soil, to seek the sun once more.

The land resisted at first, the weight of Saruman's destruction a barrier that held the life force back. But I pushed harder, feeling Gandalf's strength flowing through me. The Ents shifted, their massive bodies creaking as they leaned forward, their roots digging deeper into the soil, lending their own strength to my magic. The connection between us felt like an ancient heartbeat, a pulse that had existed since time immemorial, flowing from them into me and from me into the earth.

Slowly, I felt a stirring beneath the ground. Roots twitched, tiny shoots pushed against the mud. The air grew thick with energy, crackling with the life struggling to break free. I focused, pouring every ounce of power into that small, fragile growth, urging it to spread, to reach out, to reclaim what had been lost.

With each passing moment, the plants responded small green shoots rising from the earth, leaves unfurling as they caught the sunlight filtering down through the trees. Vines snaked along the broken machinery, curling around rusted gears and twisted metal, reclaiming them as part of the land. The Ents moved with purpose, their massive limbs shifting to make way for the new growth, their deep-rooted sorrow easing as they watched the earth come alive once more.

I felt Gandalf's hand press more firmly against my back, his energy steady as he poured more strength into me. My own reserves were nearly depleted, but with his support, I pushed on, feeling the life around me pulse with renewed vigor. The land soaked up the magic eagerly now, the roots and shoots spreading faster, the once-barren landscape transforming as greenery overtook the devastation.

The Ents raised their arms to the sky, their deep voices rumbling in a song that vibrated through the earth. The sound was ancient, a call to life older than any language I knew. The plants responded, their growth surging, filling the land with new life. Flowers bloomed amid the vines, their colors vibrant against the dark water. I had made something similar to a swamp.

Finally, I could go no further. The magic within me was drained down to one mp, my strength fading. But as I looked out over the landscape, the pain in my chest eased. The plants, the vines, the flowers, they were here. Life had returned.

Gandalf released his hand from my back, and I felt a faint smile tug at my lips as I looked up at him. He nodded, his expression one of quiet pride. "A beautiful gift you have given them, Ellehish," he said softly. The Ents shifted, their faces serene.

We stood together in silence, watching the land transform, the wounds of the past slowly healing. The Ents, their voices a low hum, watched with us, guardians of this newly reborn land. And for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of peace.

As evening settled we had all made our way back to Rohand, the sounds of laughter and clinking mugs filled the air as the others feasted, celebrating our recent victory. Plates and tankards were passed around, and the warm glow of firelight illuminated the faces of those who'd fought together. But I lingered off to the side, my gaze fixed on the orb.

The palantír was cold in my hands. I felt the pull of it, a curiosity gnawing at the edges of my mind. Frodo and Sam were somewhere out there, alone, and if this orb could help me catch a glimpse of their journey, then maybe I'd find some peace knowing how they fared. I glanced around; no one seemed to be watching. With a steadying breath, I focused on the orb, letting its dark depths draw me in.

The camp faded away, and in its place, shadows swirled, filling my vision. I concentrated, searching, pushing my focus outward, hoping to find even the smallest hint of Frodo and Sam's presence. But as I searched, something else took hold, something ancient and far more powerful.

A shock of cold ran through me, and suddenly, a force gripped my mind like iron. The familiar world of my thoughts shifted, twisting as darkness bled into my mindscape. Pain pulsed through my body, and I found myself on the edge of my own consciousness, staring into the abyss.

Before me stood the Dark Lord himself, Sauron. His presence was a consuming darkness, his malice tangible as it flooded into my mind. Aruzhan materialized beside me and on my other side stood a large white female wolf, her eyes fixed on Sauron with a predatory intensity.

Sauron's gaze bore down on us, and a cruel smile twisted through the shadows of his face. "A little creature dares to look through the palantír? You must be braver than you seem."

The wolf beside me growled, her hackles raised as she stared down the Dark Lord. But I held my ground, even as his presence sent waves of pain through me.

His voice slithered into my thoughts, smooth and insidious. "Where is my Ring? Do you know, little one? Have you seen the Halflings? And what of Gondor's fallen line?" Each question cut through the air, laced with a subtle venom, prying for information.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay silent, to give nothing away. But he didn't need words; his gaze seemed to penetrate deeper, as if he were peeling back the layers of my soul, searching for anything he could use.

Then, he paused, his dark aura flickering with intrigue as something caught his attention within me. "What is this?" he murmured, his voice edged with curiosity and malice. "I sense… corruption. Power, ancient and forbidden."

I felt him probe, his attention drawn to the marks buried within my soul, the marks of the Daedric Prince of Sex and the Aedra of Love. A faint sneer twisted across his face as he examined them, though he didn't seem to recognize their origins. The power they held, however, was unmistakable. To him, they were a force older and possibly greater than even his former master, a power he couldn't fully grasp or control.

His eyes narrowed, his tone laced with disdain and curiosity. "What beings have tainted your soul with such power?" He spoke as if he'd encountered something unfamiliar yet unsettling, a force beyond even his knowledge.

I met his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. I could feel the weight of his malice pressing down, his darkness clawing at the edges of my mind, I would have fallen if not for Aruzhan who was helping me stand.

But Sauron was relentless, his power overwhelming. My body trembled as the pain intensified, his influence seeping deeper, searching for something to twist or break. I felt myself slipping, the darkness pressing in from all sides, suffocating. We couldn't overpower him; his strength was too vast.

And then, a sudden surge of light shattered the connection.

The pain vanished instantly, the weight of Sauron's presence evaporating as I was pulled back into reality. I gasped, feeling the warmth of the world around me, the firelight, the sounds of laughter. Gandalf was beside me, his hand on my shoulder, his gaze filled with concern as he looked at the orb in his other hand, which he'd pulled from my grip.

"Ellehish," he murmured, his eyes scanning me for any sign of lingering harm. "The palantír is not to be meddled with. You never know who else is watching"

My breathing steadied, the last remnants of Sauron's presence fading from my mind. I nodded faintly, though I knew I would remember the darkness of that encounter for a long time. But now, I knew the depths of Sauron's reach, his relentless hunger to reclaim his power, and the lengths he'd go to manipulate and corrupt.

The orb was dangerous, more than I'd anticipated. But as Gandalf tucked it safely away. "Did you reveal anything to him, Ellehish?" he asked quietly, his tone both urgent and controlled, as though he understood the weight of what I'd just been through.

I took a deep breath, gathering myself before meeting his gaze. I shook my head. "No," I replied, my voice barely more than a whisper. "He asked questions, but I didn't answer."

Gandalf's expression softened just a fraction, relief mingling with the lingering worry in his eyes. He gave a short nod, standing as he looked out over the camp. "Good. Then come," he said, his voice carrying a newfound urgency. "Both of you. Pippin, Ellehish… you'll be coming with me."

I blinked, taken slightly aback by the suddenness of the decision, but before I could respond, Pippin had already joined us, looking nervously from Gandalf to the palantír. 

Gandalf met Boromir's gaze, his face a mask of determination. "We're heading to Gondor."

Boromir's eyes flicked between us, a quiet resolve forming in his expression. He nodded firmly. "Then I'll come with you."

Without another word, Gandalf turned, moving toward the horses that stood waiting by the edge of the camp. I fell into step beside him, my mind still reeling from the encounter with Sauron. Pippin followed, glancing back over his shoulder as if reluctant to leave the others behind, but the sense of urgency was palpable. The weight of Sauron's presence still hung heavy on my mind, a reminder of just how close his reach had come.

Gandalf looked to me as we reached the horses, his gaze both sympathetic and expectant. "You'll ride with me, Ellehish," he said, gesturing to the horse he'd prepared. "The journey will be long, and we must move swiftly."

I nodded, understanding his unspoken concern. The effects of the palantír encounter lingered, a weariness in my bones that I couldn't quite shake. Climbing onto the horse, I settled behind him, gripping the saddle as he took the reins. Pippin climbed up with Boromir.

As we rode out, the darkness of night cloaked the landscape, the chill of evening settling in. The silence was heavy, each of us lost in our thoughts. My gaze drifted to the stars above, the quiet expanse of the sky offering a strange sense of calm within me.

Gandalf's voice broke the silence, low but steady. "You've seen the depth of his power now, Ellehish. It's no small thing to resist him."

I met his gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between us. "I know," I replied, my voice soft but resolute. "But he won't get what he's after. Not from me."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Gandalf's mouth, though it was tinged with the weight of his own burdens. "Then let us hope the journey ahead brings us closer to an end."

Beside us, Boromir and Pippin rode in silence, their gazes fixed ahead, their expressions mirroring the quiet resolve we all felt. The shadows of Isengard faded behind us, replaced by the rolling plains stretching toward Gondor. And as we rode.