A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing! It's nice to know some people still read LoTR fanfics. :)
Chapter 4: Things Can Always Get Worse
Aragorn jerked awake, and for a hazy moment forgot where he was. Shadows danced on the walls before him, great writhing figures that seemed to press against an invisible boundary to get at him. He reached for his knife, only to find his jerkin and belt gone, along with the sheath. A low fire crackled next to him, and torches braced in a stand fluttered a couple feet away on his other side. The rest of his clothes hung from a tool rack in front of the flames. Right, the booby trap and the water, then trudging through the damp caves before they found this abandoned construction site.
Looking around, Aragorn spotted Legolas reclining against one of the crates, and was glad to see eyes glazed in elven sleep, albeit an uneasy one as the occasional twitch suggested. The elf had set his bow on the ground next to him, along with a few arrows from his quiver. Any sounds of something approaching and Legolas would be up and shooting—probably before he was fully awake. Aragorn therefore shifted quietly toward the clothes. He lifted his tunic from the rack and found it not only dry, but warm. How long had he been asleep?
He put his shirts back on, basking in the heat that seeped into his skin and soothed some of his aching muscles. The beating he had taken in the underground river would be smarting for a while, but he'd had worse. Aragorn glanced at Legolas again, debating whether to wake him. He didn't know how long the elf had been sleeping; likely he'd attempted to keep watch regardless of Aragorn's words before exhaustion took hold. They could wait a little longer, he decided. There was no telling time down here away from the sky, and who knew where the orc pack was now, if they had infiltrated the citadel, or even the secret chamber. Better the two of them regained their full strength before deciding their next course of action—mainly, finding a way out.
Sitting back down, Aragorn reached into one of his pockets and pulled out the handkerchief with the obsidian gem wrapped inside. He carefully unfolded a corner of the cloth, exposing one pyramidal point. What manner of powers did it possess that Sauron would want for himself? Was it an evil device? Or could it be wielded for any purpose, such as aiding Aragorn and Legolas now?
The Ranger sighed, and covered up the crystal once more. He had no idea what it was meant to do, and he dare not try to find out. Tucking the item safely away, Aragorn turned his attention to his pack. The food and herb supply had been ruined, which was a sour blow, but as long as they weren't lost in the caves for more than a few days, they'd be alright on that count. Although, if Legolas remained trapped down here away from sun and stars and fresh air for that long, Aragorn suspected starvation would be the least pressing problem for the elf.
He repacked his bag with the items that were salvageable once dried, and added the bandages Legolas had found from the crates. He also added dirty linen and a caster of oil to maintain the torches. Then Aragorn rose quietly and retrieved the elf's tunic, which was also dry and warm from hanging in front of the fire. Moving quietly, he approached his dozing friend, placing one foot on the bow lest Legolas attempt to shoot him, and draped the heated tunic like a blanket over the elf's shoulders. As suspected, Legolas flinched as he roused from sleep.
"Prestad?" he murmured, asking if there was trouble.
Aragorn smiled ruefully. "No. Sorry for waking you."
Legolas looked around sharply, brow creasing in frustration. "Ai, how long have I slept? It is impossible to tell in this wretched place."
Aragorn grimaced in sympathy. "Long enough for everything to dry, so at least we shall no longer be wet and miserable."
"Small blessings," the elf muttered as he sat up, frowning at the shirt that pooled in his lap.
"This passage should lead us out," Aragorn said encouragingly. "Men had to come in here somehow, probably through that second shaft we bypassed upon first entering the tunnels."
Nodding with grim resolution, Legolas slipped his tunic on, and then gathered up his arrows to put back in his quiver. Aragorn scuffed dirt over the smoldering fire ring, putting it out. Then he grabbed two torches from the rack and handed one to Legolas. With their spirits raised a fraction, they once again braved the black corridors in the depths of the North Downs. They came upon more side tunnels that bore signs of exploration: carved notches in the walls to hold torches, picks and hammers and other assorted tools. Had the city of Fornost endured, the Númenóreans could very well have developed multiple hidden vaults, each with their own mechanism for executing trespassers.
Unfortunately, while signs that men had navigated these passages meant the two lost travelers were heading in the right direction, the winding, intersecting tunnels were frustrating, as they couldn't be sure which turn would lead them straight to the citadel, and which wrapped back around. There were markings on the cave walls, much as Legolas had done to the crossbow trap, but neither of them could decipher which symbols meant the way out.
When they took one shaft that led them around in a circle for twenty minutes before depositing them back to a juncture they had passed already, both Aragorn and Legolas halted in exasperation.
"We shall be wandering around down here for an age," the elf grumbled.
Aragorn sagged against the curve of the rock wall and rubbed his forehead. "This is tedious," he agreed. His body ached and he wanted nothing more than to sit down and not move for several hours. "Alright," he said, pulling himself together. "Let's at least not make the same mistake twice." Bending down, Aragorn searched the cave floor for a sharp rock. He found a ruddy-brown one and moved to the juncture to make his own scores across the granite.
Legolas watched with a tight expression. Yes, they still had to rely on trial and error, but at least they could mark which tunnels were dead-ends or roundabouts so they wouldn't stumble into them a second time. They resumed their hike, and when they came to the shaft that had led them backwards, Aragorn scratched a circle with a line through it at the entrance. That way, just in case another passage brought them back to this intersection, they wouldn't end up completely turned around.
Legolas suddenly stiffened, head jerking to the side.
Aragorn whipped his torch that direction, though the meager light revealed nothing, and the elf appeared to be listening rather than relying on his sight. "What is it?" he whispered.
"I heard footsteps."
"Orcs?"
Legolas's brows knit together. "No, they are too soft, like scuffing instead of tramping."
That was not very comforting. "I may have been wrong about us being alone down here," Aragorn admitted.
Legolas flicked a scowl at him before snapping back to focus on the darkness behind them. "I suggest we not stay to meet it."
"Sound advice." Aragorn regarded the other two tunnel options, as Legolas remained engrossed in listening. He wondered why his friend always seemed to defer to his leadership. The elf prince had seen more centuries than Aragorn could ever hope to, had commanded Mirkwood patrols, and was probably better suited for making tactical decisions than Aragorn was. Yet, Legolas rarely stepped up to take the lead in their travels together. Was it some intentional attempt to get the Ranger used to command in preparation for his future kingship? Something the elf was in collusion with Gandalf over?
Aragorn swallowed a sigh. His decisions had led them to this mess, and while Legolas's words earlier held wisdom, they did not alleviate the man's guilt. And here he was again, faced with a choice and too little information to know which was the right one. Well, there was nothing for it. Taking a deep breath, he chose the middle passage.
Every few yards Legolas would halt and listen carefully. Aragorn couldn't detect the soft footfalls, but he trusted the elf's senses. When Legolas stopped short and whipped his head around, shoulders going rigid, Aragorn's hand went to his sheathed sword.
"Is it close?"
"No." Legolas's tone made it sound as though he was perturbed by this, which Aragorn did not understand. Better the creature or whatever it was decided they were not worthy prey. Aragorn waited for a frustratingly long moment without speaking before Legolas tore his gaze away from the shadows. "It does not follow anymore."
Aragorn nodded slowly, noting the elf's still taut bearing. They needed to get out of here.
As they traversed the tunnels, Aragorn paid close attention to the markings the Númenóreans had left. Based on their own trial and error, he began to divine what each symbol signified, and therefore believed he'd found the directions to lead them out.
"Take heart, mellon nîn, you shall soon breathe free air again."
Sure enough, the tunnels began to have a more refined shape and well-trodden floor, as opposed to the lesser explored shafts deeper under the hill. Aragorn's spirits lifted at the prospect of escaping the caves; he hadn't realized how oppressive they were to him as well. The path was clear now, one single passage stretching toward freedom. There were no side tunnels to lead them astray, only one narrow crawlspace with wooden planks secured across the opening to bar entrance.
Perhaps because his mind was still running like rapids, because he was not expecting it, or simply that he was relying on the elf's senses instead of his own, but Aragorn did not feel a prickle of foreboding until it was too late. As he passed the barricaded side passage, something plowed through the flimsy wood slats and tackled him to the ground. He landed face-first in the dirt, a heavy weight slamming on top of his back and knocking the wind from his lungs.
"Aragorn!"
Gasping for breath, he tried to buck the creature off, but one taloned forefoot curled four-inch claws into his pack. The pinky talon caught Aragorn in the lower back with a sting of pain, though not intense enough to be very deep. He heard a whiff of air and the sound of something hard bludgeoning flesh, and the pressure on his back lifted. Aragorn rolled over, still trying to suck in air and inflate his shocked lungs.
Legolas swung his torch a second time, catching the reptilian beast in the jaw with a resounding thud. Its head snapped back and it stumbled away. Legolas flung the torch aside and drew his bow. The twine sang a split second later as an arrow flew true…only to splinter into several pieces when it struck upright quills protruding from the creature's back. Like an armored coat of spears, the beast's entire hide was protected in dozens of barbs. Scales covered its legs, neck, and head. Its tail was the only naked part of its body, pinkish like a rat's.
Aragorn staggered to his feet and drew his sword. He had never seen a dragon like this—for he was almost sure it was a great serpent, though it had no wings and was more bulge than serpentine. Like a bull, it nearly filled the diameter of the cave. Steam puffed from two nubby nostrils as the beast regained its footing and narrowed one ocher eye on the side of its saurian head at them. Legolas loosed another arrow, but it clinked off the dragon's cheek and clattered somewhere in the darkness beyond. Aragorn realized grimly that the beast was currently positioned between them and the exit.
It shuffled its bulky weight around, talons and tail scraping through dirt softly. If this was the creature Legolas had heard behind them—most likely—it must have known which tunnels to take in order to cut them off. And if its hide was as strong and impenetrable as its winged cousins…
Aragorn tightened his grip on his sword. Weak spots, they needed to find weak spots.
"The tail," Legolas said in a low voice, knowing the Ranger's thoughts well.
"That will not be a death blow," he replied.
"But perhaps enough to convince it we are not worth the trouble."
True. Aragorn sidestepped right. The dragon's eye followed his movement, and the spicules along its back vibrated with threatening menace. He hesitated. How was he supposed to get around that porcupine mantle? If it weren't for the fact that running back into the tunnels would get them lost and make them easier prey, Aragorn would flee from a confrontation. But the exit lay ahead and they had to reach it.
The dragon made a slurping sound, its jaw working, and Aragorn thought it was preparing to breathe fire. So when it opened its mouth, he ducked, expecting a burst of heat, when instead the creature just spat at him. The Ranger was briefly confused at the pathetic show of prowess; however, as soon as the saliva splattered the wall and ground behind him, it began to sizzle and smoke.
Great, acidic spit.
Aragorn scooped up one of the discarded torches and brandished it in a wide arc, trying to herd the dragon back to the shaft it had come from. Eyes gleaming, the beast lashed out, jaws chomping around the flaming dowel and swallowing the flames. Shadows plunged down upon them like a cascade, barely held at bay by the single torch left flickering on the ground. Aragorn jerked back before his arm was next or he got splattered with caustic spittle. Then the darkness began to diffuse as a subtle orange luminescence started in the beast's belly and extended outward like cracks of molten lava.
Aragorn's eyes widened and he dove to the ground a second before the dragon belched out a stream of fire. Scorching flames soared overhead, fluttering his hair with their hot waves. So it breathed fire too.
Aragorn rolled to the side and quickly looked around for Legolas. The elf had also dodged under the stream, and once it petered out, he was back on his feet and firing an arrow at the beast's open maw. Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough, and the dragon snapped its head aside so that the arrow struck harmlessly against its shoulder. The creature roared in response, a high-pitched screech that shook sediment loose from the ceiling. Aragorn ducked his head to avoid getting dust in his eyes. The tunnel was now awash with light as the broken wood planks and patches of saliva-coated dirt burned with the remnants of the beast's fire.
Legolas flipped his bow back over his shoulder and drew his twin knives instead, sweeping them back and forth to draw the dragon's attention. "Oso adel ten!"
Aragorn barely resisted an eye roll; how was he supposed to get behind it? By Legolas providing a distraction, apparently. The elf lunged forward, slashing his daggers at the dragon's face, close enough to antagonize it, but not enough to make contact. There was no reason to risk damage to his blades from the invulnerable scales, nor getting spit on. The beast snarled and snapped at Legolas, taking a step toward him. Legolas backed up toward the side passage, striking out repeatedly to keep the serpent fixated on him.
Aragorn gritted his teeth, but skirted the wall as unassuming as possible until the beast's flank was to him. Then he leaped forward, launching over the tail and pivoting as soon as he was on the other side. Whirling his sword around, Aragorn brought it down upon the exposed tail. Though vulnerable, it was made of tougher stuff than it looked, and the blade only notched a chunk out of the pale flesh.
The dragon jerked away with a screech, slamming into the side of the cave wall. Legolas darted around it, narrowly escaping the snap of jaws that tried to snatch the elf. He flipped both blades over his shoulder and back into their sheaths to focus on fleeing. Aragorn scooped up the remaining torch and turned to run. Another shriek shook the shaft, raining down granules from the ceiling. Lumbering footsteps soon followed.
Aragorn and Legolas sprinted down the tunnel, barely having time to spot the special markings on the walls and dart down the correct fork. They came to the original juncture they had taken upon first entering the underground vault, only from the opposite passage they had ignored in favor of the booby trapped one. But now Aragorn finally knew where they were. A roar belted out on their heels, and they pushed themselves faster. There! The door was in sight!
Legolas reached it first and slipped through the gap. Aragorn rammed his shoulder against the rim as he plowed through next, nearly slipping as he skidded to a stop and whirled around. He and Legolas threw themselves at the door, slamming it shut with a resounding thud. Bracing it with their shoulders, they looked around for something to barricade the door with.
An impact vibration jarred through the slab, momentarily distracting them. They both pressed themselves harder against the door, fighting the force of the dragon attempting to break through. Aragorn heard an angry huff from the other side, followed by the grating sound of claws gouging down granite. Where was the key? Maybe he could lock the door and it would hold.
A throaty burp resonated behind the slab, and a whoosh and crackle of air suggested the creature was venting more than frustration. Flipping around to press his back to the door, Aragorn sheathed his sword and patted his pockets down in search of the key he'd first used to unlock the underground vaults. He immediately froze, spine going rigid. "Legolas."
Upon noting his expression, the elf twisted to face the secret panel of the outer mural. The relief wall hung wide open, and was filled with the broad, hulking figures of several orcs. Legolas threw Aragorn a wry grimace. Of course things could always get worse.
A/N: Oh dear, this doesn't look too good, does it? Also, for any mythology fans out there, the dragon is based on the French peluda, a rather nasty piece of work as you can see. Until next time. ;)