The night sky above the Black Gate was a tapestry of suffocating darkness, thick clouds strangling even the faintest moonbeam. Yet the towering black walls blazed with countless torches, their flames dancing like defiant spirits against the oppressive gloom. The flickering light painted the ancient stones in shades of amber and gold, creating a barrier of illumination that held the lurking shadows at bay.
Deep in the darkness beyond the walls, pale eyes gleamed with malevolent intelligence. A figure draped in midnight robes stood among cowering Orcs, his crimson gaze burning like coals in a forge. The human known as Black Hand towered over his groveling servants, though his lean frame seemed dwarfed by the massive Orc chieftain prostrated before him.
"The human spy promised the guards would shift their focus tonight," Black Hand's voice cut through the air like a blade through silk, each word dripping with barely contained fury. "I sacrificed a dozen of my slaves to create the diversion he requested. Yet instead of weakness, I see strength doubled upon those accursed walls."
The Orc chieftain's massive form trembled against the scorched earth, its crude armor clanking with each fearful movement. "L-Lord Black Hand, the ranger did say tonight... He swore the gates would open from within. I know nothing more, I swear by the Dark Lord's name!"
The whisper of steel being drawn sang through the night air.
Crack.
The sound of a blade meeting bone echoed like a branch snapping in a winter storm. Black blood sprayed across the barren ground as the chieftain's head rolled away into the darkness, its lifeless eyes reflecting the distant torchlight one final time.
Black Hand didn't spare the corpse a second glance, instead pointing with casual indifference at another trembling Orc pressed against the dirt. "You. Rise and claim his position. Maintain contact with our human asset."
The scrawny Orc's yellow eyes widened with desperate gratitude as it scrambled to its feet. Where its predecessor had been built like a siege engine, this creature was lean and cunning, surviving through wit rather than brute strength.
"Yes, yes, Lord Black Hand! I serve faithfully!"
Meanwhile, within the fortress walls, the converted armory buzzed with warmth and life. What had once been a cold storage chamber for weapons and arrows now glowed with the golden light of oil lamps, their flames reflecting off polished metal plates laden with unexpected bounty.
The usual evening meal of watery gruel and tough jerky had been replaced by a feast worthy of kings. Steam rose from platters of perfectly roasted meat, the rich aroma mingling with the sweet fragrance of fresh fruit that glistened like jewels under the lamplight. Amber ale sparkled in rough-hewn cups, catching the firelight like liquid gold.
Rangers filed into the makeshift dining hall with expressions of wonder and suspicion warring across their weathered faces. These were men accustomed to hardship, where a fresh apple was a luxury and hot meat a distant memory.
"What's Talion playing at?" muttered a grizzled veteran, his scarred hands hovering uncertainly over a cup of ale that smelled better than anything he'd tasted in months. "That tightwad wouldn't spend a copper on fresh bread, let alone... this."
A younger captain nearby ran his fingers through his unkempt hair, eyes darting between the feast and his companions. "Maybe it's our last meal. You know what they say about condemned men..."
The veteran snorted, already reaching for a thick slice of meat that dripped with savory juices. "Whatever it is, I'm not dying on an empty stomach. Haven't smelled anything this good since before I took the black."
Word spread quickly through the hall as more rangers discovered the unexpected banquet. Conversations grew animated as cups were raised and plates filled, the usual bone-deep weariness temporarily forgotten in the face of such abundance.
The younger captain took a cautious sip of his ale and his eyes widened in amazement. Instead of the bitter, flat brew he'd expected, cool liquid with just the right hint of hops slid down his throat like nectar. "This... this tastes fresh. Like it was just finished cooling in a cellar."
Soon the hall echoed with the sounds of genuine celebration, something these battle-hardened men hadn't experienced in months. Laughter mixed with the clink of cups and the scrape of knives against plates, creating a symphony of temporary joy in this place of constant vigilance.
Talion appeared in the doorway right on schedule, his usually stern expression softened by what appeared to be genuine pleasure at seeing his men's happiness. The rangers responded with enthusiastic cheers and raised cups, their voices echoing off the stone walls.
"Talion! What's the occasion?"
"Come on, old friend! What task are you buttering us up for?"
"This fruit... I haven't tasted anything like it since I was a boy!"
The ranger commander moved through the crowd with practiced ease, accepting their jests and questions with good humor until he reached the hall's center. Raising his own cup of ale, he let the natural authority in his voice cut through the jovial chaos.
"How does everyone find tonight's feast?"
"We'd eat like kings every day if we could!"
"I could slay twice as many Orcs on a belly full of this!"
The young captain from earlier, emboldened by drink and good food, called out with flushed cheeks, "Enough games, Talion! What's really happening tonight?"
A hush gradually fell over the assembled rangers as all eyes turned to their leader. Talion's expression grew serious as he gestured toward a side entrance to the hall.
"Because tonight we welcome a very important guest. In fact, all this food you're enjoying was provided by that guest's generosity."
Knowing chuckles rippled through the crowd.
"I knew it! No way those dusty rations could become this feast!"
The young captain's eyes sharpened with understanding. Earlier, he'd heard whispers of strangers arriving at the gate, but he'd never imagined they would be significant enough to warrant such treatment.
Talion's voice carried clearly across the now-silent hall. "Wizard Lord Tarnes of the Golden Tree, and Miss Melina, please join us."
The word 'wizard' hit the assembled rangers like a physical blow. Every conversation died instantly, cups froze halfway to lips, and even the sound of chewing ceased as every eye turned toward the doorway Talion indicated.
Tarnes entered with deliberate theatrical flair, his Raya Lucaria Academy robes rustling softly with each step. The Carian Glintstone Staff in his grip caught the lamplight, its crystalline surface throwing prismatic reflections across the walls. Every inch of his appearance screamed 'powerful wizard' to these simple fighting men.
Melina followed silently, her hooded cloak casting her features in mysterious shadow, making her seem more wraith than woman in the flickering light.
The dining hall's double doors swung shut with ominous finality as Talion's wife and son took their positions. The sound echoed like a judgment, and several veteran rangers instinctively shifted their hands toward their weapons, old instincts screaming warnings even as their minds struggled to process the situation.
Talion's expression transformed from jovial host to grim commander in an instant. "I must share troubling news with you all. The reason our enemies have been so successful in targeting our weakest positions these past weeks is because someone among us has chosen to serve Sauron instead of Middle-earth."
The reaction was explosive. Shouts of disbelief and anger erupted from every corner of the hall as rangers leaped to their feet, chairs scraping against stone and cups clattering to tables.
Tarnes raised his staff with casual authority, and brilliant Carian Glintblade Swords materialized in the air behind him like deadly angels. The magical weapons hummed with barely contained energy, their edges gleaming with an otherworldly sharpness that made every ranger in the hall freeze in place.
The message was clear: test these blades at your own peril.
Talion's voice cut through the tense silence with practiced calm. "Stay calm, all of you. I've suspected we had a spy for some time, but I couldn't identify the culprit. That's why I left the Black Gate months ago... to seek a wizard's aid."
Murmurs of recognition rippled through the crowd. Several rangers nodded, remembering their commander's unexplained absence and the fear that he'd abandoned them entirely.
"His family stayed," one veteran muttered to his neighbor. "We should have known he'd come back."
Tarnes stepped forward, his voice taking on the theatrical cadence he'd learned from observing Gandalf's performances. The mask concealing his features added an air of otherworldly authority that made even the bravest rangers hesitate to meet his gaze.
"Fear not, noble defenders of the realm. I would never falsely accuse warriors who shed their blood for Middle-earth's freedom. But trust in my magic... it will reveal the truth with absolute certainty."
The young captain called Beckett found his voice, though it cracked slightly with nervous energy. "You mean you're going to cast spells on us?"
A smile played at the edges of Tarnes's hidden mouth. "I already have. The enchantment is called 'Truth-telling,' and its purpose is beautifully simple. Whatever I ask, you will answer with complete honesty. For example..." His staff pointed directly at Beckett. "Tell me your name."
"My name is Beckett."
The words tumbled from the young captain's lips before he could stop them. His hands flew to his mouth in shock, eyes widening as he realized he'd had no control over his response.
Tarnes shrugged with feigned casualness, though inwardly he was quite pleased with the Bewitching Branch's effectiveness. The powdered remains of the magical item, mixed into the food and drink, had worked even better than he'd hoped. While not strong enough to make the rangers his devoted followers, it was certainly sufficient to compel truthful answers.
He'd tested the technique on Talion earlier, of course. There's no sense in taking unnecessary risks.
"As you can see," Tarnes announced to the increasingly nervous assembly, "my magic leaves no room for deception. Now I shall question each of you, and you already know what I must ask..."
Before he could continue, the middle-aged veteran who'd first joked about the feast suddenly exploded into motion. The man's scarred face twisted with desperate fury as he hurled his cup of ale while simultaneously kicking over his table.
"Don't listen to this charlatan! He and Talion are the real traitors working together!"
The cup sailed through the air, ale spraying in a golden arc that caught the lamplight like liquid fire.
Whoosh.
The Carian Glintblade behind Tarnes moved with supernatural speed, slicing through the cup as if it were made of parchment before continuing its deadly trajectory. The magical sword punched through the ranger's shoulder with a wet sound, pinning him to the stone wall as he screamed in agony.
Melina moved like a liquid shadow, crossing the distance between herself and the writhing man in heartbeats. She tore a strip from the nearest tablecloth and forced it between the traitor's teeth before he could bite down on his tongue, then hauled him upright and deposited him at Talion's feet like a hunter presenting prey.
The other rangers hadn't even processed her movement before it was over.
Tarnes regarded the scene with satisfaction, though he kept his voice level and professional. "While I'd love to claim I identified your troublesome spy before even beginning my investigation, I prefer to be thorough. There might be more than one traitor among you."
The Carian Glintblades reformed behind him, their crystalline surfaces reflecting the stunned faces of the remaining rangers.
His staff swept across the assembled men like a sword pointing toward judgment. "So I ask you all now: who among you has sworn allegiance to Sauron and betrayed your brothers?"