A/N: Thank you to those who followed and reviewed! I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I've made an effort to use correct Sindarin, either from referencing outside sources or working my own translations. However, I am not an expert, so please forgive any mistakes. Also, meanings of Sindarin phrases have been woven into the narrative with context clues.
Chapter 2: One Wrong Move
Legolas stared at the relief carving on the wall, keen eyes roving over every contour line in search of a chink or crevice that might suggest the panel could be opened. The mural was quite large, fifteen feet wide and tall. Its work was incredibly detailed, every chisel carefully set to stone so that the figures partially protruding from the rock appeared as though their mortal counterparts had been cast in molds to achieve such likeness. Legolas recognized King Amlaith, son of Eärendur, though it had been over a millennium since either had lived. The mural depicted Eärendur and his three sons standing tall and proud under the star of Eärendil, before Arnor had been divided. Even in the gray, frozen stone, Legolas could see hints of Aragorn in the shape of Amlaith's brow and strong jaw. The Dúnedan may little resemble the kings of old, dressed in the worn and weathered garb of the Rangers, but there was still nobility in his bearing. Legolas could well envision a crowned King Aragorn standing over a great city as Fornost had once been. Even if the man himself could not.
Aragorn ran his hands over the rock, pinching and prodding in the hopes something would give. His shoulders held the tension of a taut bowstring as though he were forcing himself to move with extreme care rather than in haste from the knowledge a troop of orcs could barge in on them at any moment. Legolas also felt the urgency pressing in on him, and he constantly turned his head to listen for clomping footsteps down the halls. With his attentions divided thusly, it was Aragorn who finally found the secret knob.
King Eärendur's scepter extended from the rest of the relief carving a few inches, and when Aragorn tugged at it, the stone shifted a centimeter, followed by a grinding sound from behind the wall. A crack split down the left side of the mural, and with a puff of dust, the panel pushed outward. Aragorn immediately went to the gap and peered inside, waving his hand to clear the haze. Not even Legolas's elven eyes could pierce the darkness within. It seemed a living, breathing entity, softly snoring as though their intrusion had not wakened its slumber. Wisdom would have them leave now while they could, but that was not their task.
Aragorn slipped through the opening, excitement over their progress giving him boldness. Legolas lingered only a moment behind before following. Though he had no love of deep dark places, he would never leave his friend to traverse such roads alone. Once inside, both man and elf paused to let their eyes adjust to the dim light seeping through the crack. They appeared to be in a small, square antechamber. Legolas could make out thin shapes of torches ensconced along the wall, and he yanked one free. Tucking the wood under one arm, he pulled out his flint and struck the chert over the charred linen. It took some coaxing, but the ancient torch finally lit, casting further illumination throughout the room.
The walls were smooth and plain, save for the four torches mounted on the east and west sides. Directly across from the secret entrance stood a door engraved with the seal of the kings of Númenor. A flicker of shadow to his right caught Legolas's eye, and he snapped his gaze to a pile of bones laid out along the panel. The elf counted perhaps half a dozen men.
Aragorn moved to stand over them, gaze thoughtful. "They must have been trapped in here, likely when the city was under siege."
Legolas considered how the hidden entrance had been sealed. "They may have even barricaded themselves inside to protect the secrets of the vaults."
Aragorn tilted his head, then squatted close to some of the bones. "More light."
Legolas lowered the torch to encompass more of the ground. There, clutched between the gnarled remains of a hand, lay a key. Aragorn reached out and plucked it from the bones' grip, accidentally breaking apart the phalanges.
"You deserve more than this forgotten tomb for your sacrifice," the man said quietly.
Legolas placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "When you rebuild this city, you will give a proper burial to those who rest here. They are your people, Aragorn, and will wait for you."
The Ranger drew his shoulders back. "Yes, but the orcs will not. Come." He strode to the door, which bore an obvious keyhole, and inserted the key into it. With a twist, the lock clicked. Aragorn tugged on the handle and the door swung outward, revealing a tunnel stretching deep into the hill. Legolas tightened his grip on the torch. Who knew what fell things had burrowed their way in from the North Downs and taken up residence inside the earth. The air was dank and cold, tinged with the scent of moisture and silt.
Aragorn grabbed a second torch off the wall and lit it. Then he turned to Legolas with a rueful look. "Ready, mellon nîn?"
The elf gave his friend a wry smirk. "If you are."
With a shake of his head, Aragorn plunged into the darkness, and Legolas followed. The tunnel was wide enough for five men to walk abreast, though only three feet hung between their heads and the ceiling. More wall torches were mounted every several paces, though they did not light them.
They came to a juncture, and paused to decide which path to choose. Both had been established as frequently traversed shafts with wall sconces, and strange marks were etched into the stone near each entrance, though Legolas could not decipher their meaning.
"How far did they delve?" he muttered. If he didn't know better, he'd suspect the people of Númenor had dwarf blood in their veins.
Aragorn considered their options, and after a moment veered left. The deeper they traveled, the more the weight of the earth seemed to press in upon Legolas. He roved his gaze across the ground, up the walls, and over the ceiling, wondering how stable these caverns were after centuries of being undisturbed. Then the ceiling began to slope upwards, giving him more breathing room, and Legolas pushed those thoughts aside.
He heard a soft grating click, and his eyes snapped to the ground where Aragorn had stepped upon a raised stone, which had then sunk under his weight. Something creaked above them, and before Legolas could register what was happening, he leaped forward and shoved Aragorn to the ground, falling with him. Both torches flew from their hands to land in the dirt, sputtering as a brush of wind swept above their heads. The sound of iron striking stone resounded throughout the tunnel. Legolas flipped onto his back and stared wide-eyed at the framework of spears that had swung down from the ceiling where they'd been standing.
Aragorn pushed himself onto his elbows with a grunt, glancing over his shoulder and blanching slightly. "That would have been unpleasant," he said after a moment, and then added his thanks, "Le hannon."
Legolas rolled to his feet and grabbed Aragorn's arm to haul him up. "Perhaps we should go back and try the other tunnel."
Aragorn shook his head. "Something deserving this level of protection is worth investigating."
"We must be wary then. I ven hen delu." He scooped up their fallen torches, the light casting jagged shadows along the walls, as though the pointed barbs were still stretching out to skewer them.
"The road is dangerous," Aragorn agreed, and took his torch back. "Care and a slow pace are needed here, yet haste is the taskmaster that awaits us outside." He shook his head. "I wonder if Gandalf is near."
"Mithrandir is powerful, but I would not see him take on an army of orcs alone," Legolas said, casting one last look at the trap that had almost claimed their lives. Hemmed in by peril on all sides…
Aragorn sighed. "Nor us. Perhaps after we've located the stone, we may find a back way out of this place."
Legolas hoped so, though he did not relish the thought of venturing even deeper to find it. However, neither did he like the prospect of returning the way they'd come and walking straight into a troop of orcs.
"Let's keep moving," he said, and this time took the lead, eyes peeled across the ground to spot any more snares awaiting them.
A few yards in, Legolas shot an arm out to stop Aragorn. He slowly bent down and ran a finger under a piece of fishing line, as thin as gossamer and barely visible in the dim tunnel. Turning his gaze upward, Legolas scanned the walls, trying to determine what trap they had just avoided, and spotted a crossbow tucked deep into a ledge.
"We probably should have just let the orcs go first," he grumbled.
Aragorn's mouth quirked. "I feel more certain we will find what we're looking for at the end. Such measures would not have been taken to secure mere gold or treasure."
Legolas straightened. "And when we find it, what then? Gandalf only meant for us to locate it, and for him to retrieve it himself."
Aragorn stood up as well and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. Let's find it first, then worry about what comes after." He nodded toward the ground. "Should we cut this?"
Legolas tilted his head in thought. "Leave it in case we are pursued." He picked up a stone then and scratched three lines on the wall. Once finished, he stepped carefully over the line and made a similar marking on the other side. That way they would recognize the spot should they return that way.
They continued down the darkened passage. Soon Legolas could hear water trickling from some source up ahead, and not long after they came to another wide juncture where the tunnel forked.
"Dartho," he instructed Aragorn to hold, and studied the ground. Though naturally uneven in places, there seemed to be at least two stones a little too symmetrical and sitting half-raised from the floor. Legolas pointed them out, and he and the Ranger deftly avoided them before coming to stand before the two branching caverns. They held their torches aloft to illuminate the shafts, but the light barely pierced the shroud of blackness. Legolas stared at the passage on his right. There was a subtle difference in the air coming from that way—it felt thicker, cloying. He did not wish to take it.
"These walls are less shaped," he said, angling his torch to throw light upon the craggy surface. "The men of Fornost may have explored this way, but I do not believe they developed vaults within its depths."
Aragorn swung his torch toward the opposite entrance, casting an amber halo into the ring. "The ground here does look more trodden, and there appear to be more wall torches here." He nodded. "We'll go this way."
Legolas inhaled deeply with relief. The dank odor of the right tunnel filled his nostrils, however, and he grimaced before turning away from it. They found no more booby traps along the left passage, and about ten yards in came upon a door. Aragorn ran one hand along the engraved stone, but found no knob or handle.
"There is a keyhole," Legolas said.
Aragorn found it, his fingers brushing the smooth edges. Then he pulled the key taken from the pile of bones, exchanged a look with Legolas, and fit it in the hole. The lock clicked, and the sound of grinding stone preceded the door sliding sideways. Inside was a square chamber, fourteen by fourteen feet, with an altar set against the back wall. A single, unadorned chest sat on top.
Aragorn set his torch in an empty wall sconce while Legolas used his to light two others. An orange glow filled the room, casting their large shadows against the walls and ceiling. Legolas secured his torch on a wall mount and then moved to join Aragorn, who was standing before the altar and studying the chest. A frown tugged at the man's mouth. "That looks like Black Speech."
Legolas looked at the runes carved into the rim of the case, and his brows furrowed. "It is." Neither of them could read it, though Gandalf would be able to. What hadn't the wizard told them about this errand?
Aragorn exchanged a wary look with him. "A weapon the Enemy wants…"
"Nay, Aragorn, it is not that." Legolas put a comforting hand on his shoulder, knowing full well his friend's feelings regarding his lineage and Isildur's failure. "The Ring was lost, not stowed away. I do not know what is inside this chest, but Gandalf would not lie. We seek an obsidian stone, not a ring."
A muscle in Aragorn's cheek twitched, but he nodded slowly. Taking a deep breath, the Ranger reached out and flipped the latch. The rusted hinges creaked as the lid arched open, and for a moment neither spoke, for Aragorn's fear was unfounded, but Legolas felt a surge of his own. Laid upon a raised platform level with the box's rim was a black, double terminated crystal. It was a little longer than the width of a grown man's palm, and an inch thick. Firelight glinted off its sharp, faceted edges and reflected in the pyramidal ends as though something alive and sinister simmered within.
"Well," Aragorn said, breaking the silence. "We've found it. Now we must decide what to do with it."
Legolas stared at the crystal. He could not say why the mere sight of it repulsed him, for its aura was dormant. Perhaps it was merely the Black Speech runes it had been encased in that set the elf's nerves on edge.
"I do not like it, Aragorn. It would be better if it remained buried."
The Ranger sighed. "I agree, yet the Enemy knows of its existence and obviously suspects its location. Better for Gandalf to hide it somewhere else."
"But did not Gandalf's instructions say not to touch it?" Legolas's jaw clenched in frustration. "Yet he is not here, and if we wait, the orcs may find us and it." Whatever intent this thing possessed, he did not want to see it fall into evil hands.
Aragorn's mouth was set in a grim line. "We have no choice then." He reached into his pack and pulled out a handkerchief. "The chest is too big to carry, otherwise I would leave it inside, but I also trust Gandalf's warning, and do not intend to touch it directly."
With that, the Ranger draped the cloth over his hand and used it to pinch the crystal between his fingers. As soon as he lifted it, however, something beneath the platform clicked. Aragorn froze.
Legolas whipped his head around as stone behind them shifted, and the door began sliding back into place. The elf ran toward it, though how he expected to stall the heavy slab was beyond him. Little did it matter, for the door thudded shut just before he reached it. His hands searched along the crease for purchase, but the exit was sealed tight. A distant roar prickled his ears then, and Legolas stiffened, eyes widening. Aragorn looked up as the noise grew louder, and suddenly water was rushing through a hole in the ceiling and down upon the man's head.
Aragorn staggered backward in surprise and almost slipped under the deluge, but Legolas caught his arm and hauled him back toward the door. The man sputtered and shook water out of his eyes, looking around in bewilderment. Water cascaded down from the opening in the ceiling and splashed across the floor. The torch closest to the waterfall was doused, but the other three were out of reach, their light clearly showing when the sloshing water began to pool as it filled each corner.
Freezing water soaked through Legolas's leggings and lapped about his ankles. He whirled back to the door, hands scrambling across stone without care. The coarse, porous rock nicked his knuckles and fingertips as he frantically tried to pry the slab open. Yet it did not budge. He vaguely noticed Aragorn working just as fervently, but the Ranger was also having no luck. Legolas's heart thundered in his chest, sending blood roaring through his ears as loudly as the gushing underground stream.
"Rhaich!" he cursed, and smacked the wall. The water now pooled around their shins, sloshing in a violent current as it was fed by the cascade. Legolas met Aragorn's grim gaze; they were trapped.