The Tarnished in LOTR with Elden Ring

Sellen the Witch was Tarnes's only true mentor in the ways of magic. If Rogier had been the one to unlock the grand door of sorcery for him, Sellen was the one who had guided him down the long path to mastering Glintstone sorcery.

She stood with her right hand resting thoughtfully on her chin, her left arm crossed over her chest as her piercing cerulean eyes scanned the unfamiliar azure sky. The constellations she knew were gone.

Sellen turned her gaze to her disciple as eight distinct, yet nearly identical, sets of memories flooded her mind. The sudden influx was enough to cause a flicker of disorientation, a sensation shared by Kenneth Haight, who stood beside her looking similarly dazed. But as a sorceress of immense skill, Sellen was not one to be overwhelmed by a mere torrent of memories. Within seconds, she had compartmentalized the information, her composure returning.

She looked at Tarnes, a complex, self-mocking smile playing on her lips. "Heh. To think the grand path I pursued was nothing more than a series of futile cycles. Disciple, should I call you foolish or simply stubborn? In all eight lives, you chose to stand by my side without exception. If that old fool Jerren were here… he'd probably be furious, wouldn't he?"

Tarnes smiled and shook his head. "The guidance of a teacher is a debt that can never be fully repaid. You never looked down on me for being Tarnished and taught me everything you knew. That kindness is more than enough reason for me to stand with you against any enemy."

At this, the corner of Sellen's mouth curved into a genuine smile. "Still as eloquent as ever. Then again, you were always the strange one, fearlessly seeking knowledge from a so-called 'Witch.' Very well. Tell your teacher what trouble you've stumbled into this time."

Her eyes drifted to the Golden Tree, so much smaller than the one she remembered. "Do you need my help cultivating it? That's simple enough. You should know by now, disciple, that the souls of living creatures are the finest nourishment for a great tree. Just bring a great number of them here and… dispose of them."

Tarnes listened to his teacher's familiarly cold and detached advice, a wry smile on his face as he shook his head. Even if he could find a way to lure that many creatures here—aside from the Orcs—the Creator of this world would never permit him to rebuild his home through the wanton slaughter of innocents. More than that, his own conscience wouldn't allow it. If he went down that path, he would become no different than the blood-crazed thralls of Mohg, lost to madness and slaughter.

Sellen seemed to read his thoughts, recognizing the familiar conflict in his expression. "But I know you," she teased. "You would never choose such a path. So, for now, just come to me when you face a magical conundrum." She glanced at Kenneth Haight, who had finally recovered from the memory surge and now wore a look of utter disbelief. "It seems this nobleman of the Golden Lineage has also sorted himself out. You two talk. Your teacher has plenty of time."

"I've preserved the cellar you used to favor," Tarnes said with a nod. "I'll show you to it shortly."

Sellen gave a soft hum of acknowledgment before donning her Witch's Glintstone Crown. The great, emerald-green stone glinted, obscuring her delicate features as she settled into a deep meditation.

Meanwhile, Kenneth Haight, a middle-aged man with a perpetually unshaven chin, swallowed hard and let out a long sigh. "Tarnes… Your Majesty. I… I don't know what to say."

Tarnes stepped forward and gave him a brief, welcoming hug before stepping back. "Then let's keep it simple. For reasons I cannot fully explain, I had to leave the Lands Between and come to this place, a world called Middle-earth. I made an accord with this world's Creator, who has allowed me to bring our home here, piece by piece. But now, we have a problem. Vile creatures called Orcs have their eyes on the Golden Tree, and we don't know when they plan to attack."

Kenneth quickly pushed aside the storm of thoughts in his mind and focused on the immediate threat. "What are their numbers and individual strength? And what are our defensive capabilities?"

"Their individual strength is laughable," Tarnes explained. "A single Orc is about as strong as a demi-human; they rely on numbers to overwhelm their foes. However, they ride fierce mounts called Wargs, which are far more dangerous. The two almost always appear together. We estimate over a hundred are coming, though the upper limit is unknown. As for us, our primary strength lies with your new liege, Stormlord Nepheli Loux, and a sorcerer named Rogier, who is skilled in Carian Sword Sorcery. And now, of course, we also have my teacher, Sellen."

Tarnes noticed Kenneth's expression growing stranger with every detail he provided.

"What is it?" Tarnes asked. "Is there a problem?"

Kenneth opened his mouth, then seemed to remember to whom he was speaking. He took a deep breath. "Your Majesty, are you truly concerned that a hundred enemies with the combat power of demi-humans could break through your and Lady Nepheli's defenses to breach Fort Haight? I believe the enemy would need ten times that number to even have a chance. And even then, it would only be because a few managed to slip past while you were occupied."

Tarnes slapped his forehead and laughed. "You misunderstand, Kenneth. I'm not worried about them breaking in. I'm just bringing you up to speed."

The way you were talking, I thought we were facing an apocalypse, Kenneth grumbled to himself. Outwardly, he simply bowed. "Please rest assured, Your Majesty. With me here, no enemy will set foot inside Fort Haight."

Just then, Nepheli Loux's voice carried from outside the fortress walls. "Tarnes! I didn't expect you to bring out Fort Haight itself!" He could also hear the boisterous chatter of the dwarves accompanying her.

Tarnes went to the battlements and leaned over, shouting down, "There's more! Kenneth Haight is here as well. Come right in!"

At that moment, Sellen stirred from her meditation. "Disciple," she said coolly, "this place is becoming crowded, and I detest crowds. Where is this cellar you spoke of? Take me there."

Tarnes nodded and escorted Sellen to the Waypoint ruins, passing Nepheli and the dwarves on their way. After seeing his teacher settled, he hurried back to the fortress. By the time he returned, Knight Captain Godrick was already leading the Royal Army soldiers, deploying them along the walls and organizing patrols.

Kenneth Haight stood respectfully behind Nepheli, while the dwarves wandered about, curiously observing every detail of the fortress. The demi-humans were no longer in the plaza; Kenneth explained that he had sent them out to scout the surrounding terrain rather than force them to work alongside the Royal Army.

"Their prejudice and arrogance towards the demi-humans will not fade overnight," Kenneth sighed, glancing at the knight captain on the wall. "Thankfully, that treacherous captain holds you in some sort of inexplicable reverence, so he did not question an order given in your name."

Fili, Kili, and Dwalin then approached, their faces filled with awe. Kili, in particular, was practically buzzing with excitement.

"What a phenomenal feat of magic, Mr. Tarnes!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining. "I've never seen a fortress rise from the very ground before!"

Fili and Dwalin nodded in agreement, impressed by the fort's defensive design.

Thanks to Nepheli's introduction, Kenneth treated the dwarves with courtesy, not mistaking them for some new variant of demi-human.

"Fili," Tarnes said, addressing the dwarf who was stomping on the ground as if to test its solidity, "have your kin stay within the fortress for the next few days. It might be a bit crowded, but it's far safer than being outside with Orcs on the prowl."

Fili's wheat-colored mustache twitched as he grinned. "We dwarves are not as delicate as men. A roof over our heads is a luxury for us."

Dwalin hesitated for a moment. "Just now, we saw a group of creatures that looked like Goblins leaving the fortress…"

"You are mistaken, good Dwarf," Kenneth quickly explained. "They are the demi-humans of the Lands Between, a different species entirely from the Goblins you speak of. While they may look unassuming, I assure you they possess both reason and wisdom."

"Kenneth is right," Tarnes added. "I count a demi-human tailor among my friends."

Kili let out a triumphant laugh and slapped Dwalin on the back. "See, Dwalin? I told you they weren't Goblins!"

Kenneth chuckled. "However, I would be most curious to hear about these Goblins, Sir Dwalin, if you have the time."

Dwalin shrugged. "Aye, I can tell you what we told Sir Tarnes on the road…"

Meanwhile, hidden amongst the trees and ruins, an Orc scout watched with bloodshot eyes as seven dwarven carriages rolled into the ruined town. Only after the last one had disappeared from sight did the Orc rise, whistle for its bored Warg, and slink back the way it came.

It soon arrived in a desolate forest where hundreds of Orcs and Wargs lay concealed among the rocks and trees.

"Dorguz, Khozdayin!" the Orc snarled in its twisted tongue, addressing a hulking Orc captain whose arm was plated with iron and who wore a human skull as a helmet. "Sir, there are dwarves!"

The Orc captain narrowed its eyes and snatched the scout, dragging it close. "Dwarves? Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir! I saw it clearly!" the scout whimpered, nodding frantically. "Seven carriages, full of them! The human wizard in the armor led them in!"

"Hmph. Human wizard," the captain grunted, throwing the scout to the ground with a look of apprehension.

Just then, another Orc of similar rank rode up on its Warg. "Captain, the wizard has returned. Do we still attack tonight?"

The captain snarled, baring saliva-slicked teeth. "Of course we attack! These soft-skins always celebrate when they return from a journey, dropping their guard. We'll wait until they sleep and take their heads. Even a wizard can't live without his head!"

The sub-captain flinched and backed away. "You are right, Captain."

Pleased by the show of submission, the captain roared, "And now there are dwarf-scum in his fortress! We will bring the heads of those filth and the wizard's head to the great Azog!"

"Rrrroooar!" The Warg beneath him rumbled in agreement. The other Orcs began to stir, but the captain silenced them with a sharp hiss. "Quiet, you fools! Do you want the wizard to know we're here?"

The captain surveyed his forces. Nearly every Orc warband in Minhiriath had gathered, numbering close to three hundred. The few who had survived their last encounter with Tarnes had spread tales of his power, allowing this captain to bully the other chieftains into uniting under his command.

The sun bled across the horizon like a fresh wound before the night, a great beast, swallowed the last of the light. Dark clouds smothered the stars, and a damp chill filled the air. The wind whispered through the trees, a prelude to the slaughter to come.

The shadows of Orcs and Wargs flowed through the darkness, their eyes gleaming with hunger. Their footsteps rustled on the dead leaves, a war drum beating in the gloom. Evil and darkness marched swiftly toward the ruins.

They marched until the Orc captain froze, his jaw hanging open in shock as he stared at the towering, grey stone fortress that now stood where the outpost had been. He saw the cold glint of crossbows on the battlements, all aimed directly at him.

A voice, sharp as thunder, ripped through the silent night.

"Fire!"

(End of Chapter)

***

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