[doug*platypus]

Having finished his meal, the dwarf bard pushed his plate aside, and extracted his pipe from the mess of his belongings on the floor. He also stopped down there for long enough to put all his possessions back in order about his person, and to tie up a stray bootlace.

After a few minutes at the pipe, he drew a long draught from his tankard, and stood up where he was. The time had come to pay his fee. A bard by profession since he could ever remember, he made no apologies for the length of his story, and hoped that despite their troubles the patrons would be eager for a tale of the north. He had been put in mind of one about a book.


The Burning Book

"I will tell you now of the Burning Book; the ancient text of a powerful sorceror and mage of the Realm of Angmar.

"Nay! It is not the Witch-King himself I speak of, but one of his greatest servants. Although great, this sorceror had not the terrible power of the King of Angmar, and was but a vassal to him, having nothing of his own to command save his extraordinary talents. This sorceror's true name was long forgotten, but the Elves knew him as Gûl Carnen, the Red Sorceror, for his robes were red as a furnace fire, and his hands also. The Dwarves' name for him was not so pleasant. For many years, he aided the Kingdom of Angmar in its persecution of my people, the Longbeards. For the foes of Angmar, whatever the Elves may have you believe, were not only west of the Misty Mountains.

"It is said that this sorceror owed most of his power to one fiery tome in which many incantations of the ancient world were recorded. Indeed, the language of men which it was written in was even then forgotten to all but a few. The Witch-King could not have know it, or he would surely have taken the book, desiring no other sorceror but himself to hold power so great. But even had the Fell King been able to use it, he dared not approach the book, for the sight of its burning pages was as a smouldering brand in the heart to him. So he hated his lieutenant, and yet feared him nigh as much.

"For years, until he began to unlock the secrets of the Burning Book, the Red One used it only with great pain. For the pages of the book, by some ancient art, burned with a fierce fire and yet they were not harmed. Whatever was to touch the flaming leaves would be singed and seared terribly. The lure of the book was so strong to the sorceror, however, that he could not leave it alone, or lay it aside. Closed inside its binding of dragonhide, the mage carefully carried the book with him wherever he went. No spell he knew could be made to help him, and no golem he created could be manipulated to use the book for him. The book was no doubt enchanted to prevent enemies of its maker from using it. But its rightful owner had long ago gone to his grave, and the secret of its unlocking was lost. By supernatural powers of will and discipline, Gûl Carnen constrained his hands to fight through the horrible pain it took to turn the pages, and he began to learn its secrets.

"By and by the mage grew in power, and as he brought himself to turn each new page, though his hands and his face would burn until they bled, his knowledge increased. Eventually he found he no longer needed the hands that Ilúvatar had given him. Through a devilish spell gleaned from the Burning Book, he was able to recreate flesh and sinew when his own hands were finally destroyed. Ever after his hands looked perfect, but they glowed red and orange like hot coals. His face, though, he could not heal, and he was horribly scarred until the day he died.

"As has been said, the King of Angmar hated and feared his servant, the moreso as the Red One's power increased. He devised a plan to rid himself of the troublesome mage. At that time in the troubled lands of the north there still still lingered great fire drakes, remnants of the ancient world. Although fierce and independent, these creatures had throughout history ever been ready to the will of evil. The Witch-King desired their power to use against the Free Peoples of the north, and resolved to bring them under his dominion. Foolishly, for only one power has ever been able to sway a dragon against its will, and to parley with a dragon is madness. But in this reckless venture, the King of Angmar also saw a chance to rid himself of the Red Sorceror, whose knowledge and power was now advancing by the day. The Red One had long before cast away all his old scrolls and tomes, and everywhere he went, he would be seen clutching his precious spellbook, to the scorn of his fellows. He was often seen in those days at the forefront of battle with the Eldar, with the men of Arnor, or with the Dwarves. Standing tall in his red robes with The Burning Book open before him in his hand, it was said he would call down horrible portents of fire and stone from the heavens, or stir the spirits of the slain to spread mayhem across the field of battle.

"The Witch-King sent him now with a small company on his most difficult task yet, to persuade or to ensnare dragons to serve the ends of Angmar. The Red One accepted this task knowing that many hoped he would be destroyed rather than succeed. But he also knew that if he refused, the Kingdom would rise against him as a traitor, and he would be taken and slain since he had no army to command. Indeed he had no servants at all, for that was not his desire. He was a mage, a destroyer by fire and by fear, and he was above the rule of others, as others were below being ruled by him.

"As intended, the Red Sorceror did indeed meet his end in the wastes of the north. If you can believe such a strange tale, I may tell you that some of my own forefathers witnessed this, as they hid waiting to attack the men of Carn Dûm, having heard rumour of them from ravens. But my kin did not have the chance to draw blood. Gûl Carnen and his company were met by a huge winged fire drake, as they were encamped on the waste, weeks out from Angmar. The dwarves were preparing to attack as the sun rose to its zenith, when the unmistakeable flapping of immense wings was heard across the barren plains. The Red Sorceror strode out to meet the red-golden drake as it alighted. For hours they stood there facing each other, the mage in his fiery robes, Burning Book open in his hand, and the red-golden creature on its haunches, one of its huge unlidded eyes fixed on him. Not a word was uttered aloud in that time, but all who were watching knew the dragon and the man were communing with each other. The men of Angmar were stricken and afraid, and they stood outside their pavilions and tents unmoving. The dwarves could not be told apart from the grey stones about them, and barely did they even breathe.

"And then the strangest thing of all happened. The mage turned around, and suddenly after the hours of silence he spoke. He read aloud an incantation from the Burning Book, his right hand stretched out towards the men of Carn Dûm. They stood dumbfounded, still held under the spell of the dragon, whose wicked laughter now burst forth from the depths of his form. One by one, Gûl Carnen singed each man to the bone, leaving their charred remains on the ground where they fell. He razed the pavilions, and then, his energy spent, dropped his arms to his sides, staring straight ahead like a blind man. The tome of fire dropped on the stony ground beside him, falling so that it closed itself firmly. The great dragon lumbered up, slammed his spiky tail into the book, and flicked it neatly up and into his vast maw. The great beast swallowed, and spurted immense tongues of flame out of his nostrils until the fire of the book had been all expelled into the air. He then grasped the back of the still unmoving mage's robes in his teeth, picked him up off the ground, and flapping his wings began to spiral slowly up into the air and away north.

"After a while the dwarves regained their wits. When they were sure the dragon had gone, they searched through what was left of the men's camp. Nothing did they find there but twisted and melted metal, and singed bones. Having been robbed of their vengeance, they cursed once more the name of every dragon they had ever known, and made their way back the long leagues to Erebor. None could say for sure what happened to the sorceror, whether he was consumed, if he was spared, or if he was kept in torment for the pleasure of the vile beast. But to a dwarf, they ever after had nightmares of a Burning Book, and the laughter of the dragon."


Having finished, he ceased his walking about the room, and returned to finish his neglected beer. After exchanging pleasantries with those in the common room and with his gracious host, he retired to a room that she selected for him. He made up his mind to leave as soon as he woke up in the morning. We must away ere break of day and all that, he thought to himself with a smile as he turned in.