There is little time on Durin's Day, when the sun and moon combine and the stars shine like candles in the sky.
Despite the soreness of my body, I press on bravely; my staff is my third leg, and my hood will shield my eyes.
I remember all of these constellations from the textbooks I was told to read. These stars go this way. Those stars go that way.
This will be a long stride, through these cold places in the sky.
I put my faith in the starts to steer me along, the torches who will show the path before my eyes.
The ceiling of the world is a map for me to read. I will go this way. I then go that way.
Here the place is!
Shaman's Rock... A large pillar inscribed with runes and hieroglyphs glows in the horizon.
And there is a thick grove of trees surrounding it, but its glow shines through.
I shall stop here to rest and meditate, to rest my mind and investigate the place.
And now, as I sit and think, the stone starts to crumble before my eyes to reveal its boon.
Ah, so here is the treasure gifted to me.
A ring must have been hidden within this rock several generations ago,
Not any ordinary ring, but an enchanted jewelry of masterful craftsmanship.
I have heard of these before, Saruman had taught me about great sorcerers who could bind powers to these precious objects.
What could this one do for me? There is but one way to find out.
Warmth. Warmth and heat. It burns! It burns my skin! AAH!
Get off! Get off! I can't get it off!
This is the most painful ring I have ever worn!
It shines, it glows, it shrinks and grows,
And onto my finger it binds itself with the burning of a white forge.
With all of my might, the ring is still stuck to me,
As though it has a will of its own to incinerate and vaporize.
Now on my hand, the burning stops.
We are one! As though a union of two parts of one soul,
I now possess this piece on my body, never to lose it.
I dare say... it must have been forged with me in mind, since the beginning.
… I am not alone here. I can suddenly hear the breath of a dozen stalkers in the trees around me.
Rotten, subterranean smells.
Goblins! They have waited here to ambush me.
Begone, you spidery fiends!
… Oh dear! I didn't expect to do that.
I wanted to scare them away with sparks, but every tree at Shaman's Rock has suddenly burst into flames.
They're all dead now, but I must get out of here before other goblins see the smoke and are drawn near.
This powerful ring... I like it. It's... strangely in sync with my will, like a doppelganger.
There is a sort of mystical magical presence within it that I can feel in my mind.
Much like the voice of that awful ghost from Cirith Ungol,
Only... it's me. My inner self, coming to life, and becoming my guide.
And now I feel also the presence of many, many other people in the recesses of my mind.
Egads! This is no ordinary work of sub-par enchanting. It is a ring forged of students of a student of Aule, the Great Smith!
Countless ones have been made before the legendary rings of Middle Earth, scattered across this world.
I can faintly feel the presence of other ring-bearers.
Something is wrong. I feel one calling for aid.
And I feel another one calling for death.
Northwards, I faintly hear the sounds of war drums and siege machines...
… Galadriel!
Into my beastly form I go, for there is little time, and I must make haste beyond haste.
My robes and staff dissipate in favor of swift paws and a tail for balance.
I can still feel the burning from my ring coursing throughout my body,
No longer as a hostile flame, but now an energy to give my legs strength!
The hunt begins! I can smell steel and smoke to the north of here nearby Lothlorien.
The excitement gives even greater speed to my stride,
I may never tire at this rate.
Even my foxlike disguise has been... greatly empowered.
Scarcely have I been able to keep up with other wild foxes before,
And yet I must be running at a speed that I cannot comprehend.
Galadriel... I can feel her more strongly now.
Her ring and mine are starting to communicate to one another through some unknown rift.
I'm not going to make it in time.
I must call out to her!
I howl as loud as I can, in hope that her ears are reached by the sounds of an unlikely ally,
Come from mountains cold and ancient, with renewed vigor and strength.
Hold out the enemy, My Dear Galadriel!
Festus, the Red, is returning to your realm.
What's this? There's chaos out there. There is a swarming sea of brawling beasts out here in this field.
Just beyond the World Tree, which is belching smoke and steam.
I must have a closer look.
Warriors! Hired ones. Not very friendly. These ones have been gathered by a fell hand's command.
This is the largest fight I have seen in a while, nowhere near as great as any of the skirmishes I've seen between the barbarians and horsemen of Rohan and Dunland.
Orcs, ghouls, zombies, wolves;
All as innumerable as the sand grains of the sea shore.
I feel the presence of two ring-bearers here.
Galadriel, no doubt.
And another one... familiar, and horrifying.
Could it be the one? He whom I faced at the keep of Cirith Ungol?
Even more powerfully than ever, do I feel him,
And so does he feel me, just as strongly.
I feel as though I know him now, this nemesis of mine.
… Not just any ancient king. A legend! A conqueror from the lands of Angmar.
… Murazor!
Dreadful Murazor, the Witch-King of Angmar,
I can see him searching for me once again. His steed has turned—it's coming right for me!
“Ah, so The Fox shows his face.”
No... No! Not again! The voice in my head has returned!
His awful screech has pierced my ears again.
It has struck me like a storm front.
My clever disguise has been stripped from me with terror.
A posse of the Angmarhim immediately make for me, The Wizard, to be halted by the Witch-King's command.
He wishes to face me alone...
Time has slowed—all noise has become deafened to me.
The sight of every soldier fighting around me has become blurred and greyed.
Once again, I cannot move. The Nazgul approaches on-foot.
He speaks to me in my mind, my eyes cannot look away from him.
“I see you have found Your Ring, as our master has preordained.
Yes, feel it cling to your flesh, Festus.
Let its power flow through your body, like a torrent of heat.
But even this will not save you.
In desperation to come to her rescue,
You have sprinted only to your doom.”
I need to get up. I need to snap out of this, but I can't move.
I must fight back. It can't end like this.
The Morgul Blade is drawn,
Poisoned with the wailing souls of the damned.
Closer, and closer, he comes. Taunting me!
I am even more powerless than last time. Frozen with dread.
Immobilized with my true weakness.
Despair.
“You made a fine duelist when last we met.
This time, I show you the difference between your power and mine.
It has been a pleasure to bear witness to your abilities,
But now it is time for you to be one like us.
You will make a fine servant, molded in my image.
Die for me now, and forsake your mortal body.”
Suddenly I hear the thundering of stags, and the horn of the Noldor.
Immediately, the trance is broken, as Murazor's attention is drawn away.
And now I move in to strike, my furious defiance setting my body on fire.
We duel once more, as elk-riders from Mirkwood fight their way to my rescue.
I will not let you defeat me, ancient shadow!
You may seize my courage, but you will not have my soul!
On tattered wings, the Witch-King flees the onslaught,
Hissing at me, and promising that we would once again meet.
Here, there comes soldiers from Rivendell, from Mirkwood, from Fangorn and Lorien,
And men of the Dunedain rangers.
The Elves and their allies are fully gathered to the defense of their homelands.
Even some of the dwarves appear to have showed up for the fight,
In a celebration of Durin's Day, they have come to fight evil in his honor.
And so have I also been called to battle,
For the safety of the innocent, I must come to Galadriel's aid.
My body is on fire!
It hurts, and yet it gives me such strength!
It is time to let the power of my wild heart loose.
Even grander than before have my spells become.
Man, orc, and wight have all become wary of me,
As I conjure a multitude of blades of flame,
And a storm of smoke grows in the battlefield,
Blinding the eyes of my enemies, and suffocating their lungs.
The elves have already laid waste to the enemy's siege machines,
Their elks and skin changers have crushed a multitude.
But though they seek to fight alongside me,
They are wary of me, and keep their distance.
Its My Ring.
They found out that I've found my ring.
Everyone around me is becoming so afraid.
Fight on! We must fight on, and be rid of these servants of evil.
I am becoming angrier and angrier as the storm of war grows stronger.
Now what is happening?!
The elves are fleeing the scene, into the trees,
And so are the Angmarhim retreating away from the fortress.
The arrows of the trees raining down upon them, thinning their numbers.
But as a last act of mockery,
I behold the orcs dragging away the corpses of the dead.
Gnarled, torn, bloated bodies slain in battle, they are now being dragged through rock and mud,
Shredding and cutting on the rocks and scrap armor,
To be reanimated by wicked powers back in the mountains of Arnor,
Where Murazor rules supreme.
Everyone is fleeing, except for me.
Why?
Now, to my eyes appears the greatest of mockeries.
There staggers a jeering orc, carrying the spoils of war.
A bundle of innocent foxes, over his shoulder,
Bloodied and bruised to death during the onslaught.
One of many amicable creatures of Lorien who have been hunted down by their merciless enemy,
And slain for sport, to be eaten by rotten creatures,
Their bones to become powder for alchemy,
And their pelts to become leather for shields of battle.
Who could justify such senseless evil or violence,
Against such beautiful creatures, who know not their right paws from their left?
It makes my blood boil.
I shake and shiver with rage, at the sight of this wickedness.
The free people and the denizens of nature have done nothing to deserve a genocide.
I will not stand for it! How many times have these monsters gotten away with such abominable acts?
The flames of my body rise, and rise—I feel dreadful burning pain throughout my entire body,
Screaming with fury and indignation,
I now run to these deserters!
My rage is all-consuming!
Power overwhelming!
I condemn these traitors of nature, these products of Morgoth, these mockeries of all that is good.
Burn to ashes!
Fall to pieces and evaporate!
Barrage after barrage, I continuously throw my anger at them,
My fury made manifest in blazing light and smoke that blots out the stars.
Walls of red and yellow trap the remaining besiegers,
And even great monsters of the mountains melt away in a sea of death.
The Angmarhim panic and perish,
They have no hope of leaving here alive.
I will not let them escape to Carn Dum,
To come back with reanimated dead to add to their ranks.
My indignation is final.
At last, I deliver their final doom.
Releasing the full force of My Ring, a brilliant eruption breaks from the ground.
Fires from the ground and sky converge—Flames from the underworld and the heavens collide,
In a detonation of legendary proportions.
I put all of my anger into this final moment,
Let the world be awed by my return,
Festus, the Red Wizard.
The pillar of flame shines with the brilliance of the sun,
A monolith of burning light, bright as the breaking dawn.
The flames and smoke rise higher, and higher, like a tower of endless height.
And so the sphere of destruction has vanquished the Witch-King's wicked forces.
Nothing remains but ashes, dust, and scorched earth.
May these evil minions be erased for good, never again to be rebuilt by necromancy.
… I did it...
… I actually vaporized an entire army, fielded by one of the most wicked rulers of history.
This entire place has become a desolate, dry wasteland just beyond a rich realm of life and lush grass.
The smoke dissipates in the wind. The sun and moon separate. The stars disappear.
It is finished.
I cannot believe my eyes! Here there once was a multitude of soldiers,
And now the place is an empty field for nature to once again take back,
And make fruitful with grass and wildlife for another age.
Fire: Power in nature's rawest of form,
Fire, to turn flesh into dust,
To feed the hungry ground, and nourish the soil.
I now understand the merit of my affinity,
That the Loremasters do not.
For fire is the essence of light and heat,
The energy of life.
Perhaps I need not to join the Elves in their studies.
I have achieved a power of my own with which to fight against the evils of the world.
And to cleanse the lands of sin and imperfections.
Yes... Now I know what I must do!
I make for Isengard at last,
To face off against one who claims to be greater and wiser than myself!
Long has he thought me unfit to join his league in the defense of the Free Peoples.
A pompous dotard, of great power and wisdom and equally great pride and arrogance,
Whom I used to idolize as my role model.
Once I humble him, he may receive me once again!
At long last, I will have a purpose again in this world.
Finally, I will study the secret arts of magic,
With his defeat at my hands, I will be free to pursue my dreams!
… My Ring speaks to me. I must hurry.
I can feel two or three other ring-bearers in the back of my mind. They are afraid. They are shocked and disturbed.
Never mind Murazor, who has fled the scene of battle.
I need to make for Isengard.
There will be ample time for me to rest on my journey there.
It took me much of my power and energy to vanquish Angmar's forces.
I should not stay here, lest someone comes for me to interrupt my new plans.
I shall prove myself to Saruman, the White,
To redeem myself in his eyes, and be found useful again,
And I will become his greatest student. Who knows? Maybe I can come with him on his various missions throughout Middle-Earth to be at his aid!
… But... Even as I now go... I feel a sense of dreadful worry from around me.
The feeling as though I am being hunted.
I can faintly recognize their faces...
… Galadriel... I can see her! I can see her looking across the empty battlefield trying to find me.
And... a wizard. Dark are his clothes, and long is his beard.
… No ring do I know what Gandalf Carries... How so does he sense me, then?
No! I will not allow you to stop me!
If either of them seek me out, they will have to catch me first!
It is my lifelong dream to be honored and blessed among the divine,
To walk among the angels and gods of goodness and peace and love!
I will not be held prisoner in Middle-Earth,
Where my fleshly body shall wither and die meaninglessly,
And my soul descend to a void in the underworld.
Back into the skin of a fox, I change!
I flee! I fly ever faster!
You will not hold me back.
No-one will!
