Title: 'The Return to Torech Ungol'
Chapter Eight: 'The Tower of the Moon'
Author: Anna Rousseau
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Genre: Adventure/Drama
Rating: PG
Set: 1426 SR - six years after the fall of Sauron
Summary: The Shadow has passed, but great and terrible things existed before the Dark Lord, and now they outlive him even in the New Age of King Elessar. This chapter tells of Pippin and Aragorn's venture into Minas Morgul and the setting out of the Host from Osgiliath.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to dear old Professor Tolkien. However, Gloríen is mine - so I have a right to maim him.

Middle-earth Disclaimer: The story is set after Book Six: The End of the Third Age. It complies with the history of Middle-earth, as is accurate with dates and places and events and so forth, though the adventure told in this story was never chronicled in the Red Book nor other books of lore of Gondor.

A/N: Never fear, Mary-Sue is not here. Never (save in insanity) will I Mary-Sue, and I will promise that to you with all my heart :o)

The best twists in the tale are still to come...



"THE RETURN TO TORECH UNGOL"
============================

Chapter Seven - 'The Tower of the Moon'
---------------------------------------


All was dark in the Great Hall of Minas Morgul, the ghostly light of the cobwebs shimmering in the darkness. Then, Pippin shielded his eyes, for an ethereal light shone from Aragorn's breast. It was clear and leaf-green and flooded about them as a pool of silver, for the light came from the Elfstone given to Aragorn by Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien, and its power was greater than the shadow of Minas Morgul.

Very few words were spoken between the King and his friend as they traversed with caution they vast floors of the Halls of the great citadel, and as they walked they looked about them in awe of the terrifying lair of the fell creatures. The smell of the beasts filled the still air about them and it was more potent and vile than they had ever experienced; the stench seemed to reach their senses even when they refrained from breathing through their nostrils and instead drank in the thick air through their mouths.

They kept to the sides of the Hall, staying close to the walls which were now covered in the thick cords the spiders had spun. Every so often a scuttling sound would ring out through the arched spaces of the halls and Pippin would press himself against the wall in fear, only to be adhered by the sticky coils to the wall and needing to be rescued by Aragorn who would slice into the strong fibres with a few stokes from Andúril.

And as they moved slowly, keeping to the shadows with their only light that of the Elfstone, they had chance to look about them. The Halls of Minas Morgul were certainly as great a structure as Pippin had ever seen, as tall as the roof of the Great Hall of Minas Tirith and as wide as the river Anduin. Though the hobbit expected to see at any moment the movement of a dark form amongst the great webs strewn from pillar to pillar in a great canopy over their heads, of the ancient creatures they saw none.

Though they did not know it, they had been walking for a day in the corridors of Minas Morgul, their slowness due to their caution and the fact that every other step they came across sheets of cobwebs which had to be cut through before they could advance. Their feet often became stuck to the webs which covered the stone flags of the floor like a great carpet, and it took time to dislodge themselves from the sticky grasp of the cords before they could move on. After a while they discovered that if they stepped lightly and quickly they were able to move without being trapped, however they were forced to tarry as webs obstructed their path more often than not. However, Pippin was assured that Aragorn was leading them in the right direction; his skills as a Ranger of the North served them well as he was able to pick up the sent or any sign of the path the spiders had taken by merely observing the things around him. Pippin did not question his leadership and he followed behind him, watching the webs around him for any sign of the great creatures.

Hours later Aragorn stopped in front of a great staircase. Its thousands of steps were covered in the same white lustre and they ran up high into the expanses of the hall. About the fine balustrades of the staircase webs were spun and in their grasp were held the carcasses of birds and rabbits which had strayed into the citadel. The hobbit looked past these with a gulp and his eyes followed the steps up and farther up and still he could not see where they ended for they disappeared into the mist of webs spun across the ceiling. Pippin suddenly had a feeling that this must have been a very splendid and grand place in the days of Gondor's glory, and his heart ached to see it laid siege to by the vile threads of the spiders. Aragorn looked up the stairs and peered into the darkness, the light of the Elfstone unfailingly bright and soft on his breast. He then turned and led Pippin to a space under the steps which the spiders had seemed to have not claimed for their own as there were no webs there.

It was here that they talked quietly for a little while and ate a wafer or two of lembas that Pippin had stowed in his pack anticipating hunger when they had departed from Minas Estel. This preparation on the hobbit's account made Aragorn smile for it was one of his fondest memories of his hobbit friends in the days of the Fellowship that they would never miss an opportunity to eat if there was one.

Pippin was halfway through his second mallorn-wrapped piece of Elven waybread when something in the corner of his sight stirred. The lembas fell from his grip and he whispered, the small sound still reverberating off the stone walls about him. "Aragorn," he murmured. "There, behind you."

Aragorn turned about and got to his feet. He looked to where Pippin's gaze was fixed on a wall which was lined with many statues of the Kings of Old, their noble faces smashed by the Nazgul and their robes spun from spiders' silk. The wall was about fifty feet from them under the great staircase which concealed the King and his companion. Aragorn moved forward and he unsheathed Andúril. Pippin fell into step behind him, clutching his own dagger in his hand. As Aragorn reached the wall he could see more clearly the movement which Pippin had sensed.

There, lining the wall, were several bundles of webs, moving slightly as if there were animals captured in the cocoons of strong cord. Aragorn at once rushed over to the wall and set about freeing the victims from their restraints, and Pippin joined him at his side hoping that they had not come too late.

***


Meanwhile the sun was setting behind Epthel Dúath, its red light spilling across the dark mountains and cascading over Emyn Arnen and the Anduin before creeping across the Pelannor and throwing Osgiliath and Minas Tirith into a russet dusk. Hasufel was at this time nearing the city of Osgiliath and when he rode down into the newly-built city on the sparkling Anduin bearing Faramir with Legolas and Gimli, the heralds sounded their horns from the battlements and the Captain of the City came forth from the gates.

There it was that Beregond, Captain of Osgiliath and dear friend of Faramir beheld his master, sitting wounded yet conscious on the back of the King's horse.

Beregond dismounted his own steed and came to his master's side. He looked up at Faramir and observed his bloody wound. "My Prince, we received word this morning from Elhirron the Elf-lord of Arda Estel that you had accompanied the King in search of Glorfindel and Legolas. I can see that you succeeded in finding one, but what has befallen you and the King, for he is not with you and you ride his mount."

"Those are questions too many," replied Gimli, jumping to the ground and drawing close to Beregond. "You must take the Lord Faramir and Master Legolas to the Houses of Healing in the city and have the healers tend to them hastily for the Prince is gravely injured and the Elf was taken hostage and stung by one of Shelob's kin."

Beregond's eyes grew wide at the mention of the fell beast. "Then the rumours are true. But what of King Aragorn and Master Peregrin the Hobbit?"

Gimli shook his head with grief. "They stayed in Morgul Vale alone to find the others, for Master Merry was taken too. The King bid me demand of you that you send two companies of men to Minas Morgul at once, and not to tarry, and to arm your men with elven blades, if they can be found."

"The men are easy enough to come by," replied Beregond with a sigh, "for their barracks lie in the city, but elven blades we have few."

"Well then, arm yourselves with them and your own metal and make haste," Gimli replied, seeing Faramir failing against the pains of his wounds. "And get these two to the Houses of Healing."

"I shall see to it at once, Master Gimli, and I shall myself lead the Host of Men to the gates of Minas Morgul," Beregond replied.

The at once the heralds blew their instruments and Hasufel carrying Legolas and Prince Faramir, was led into the walls of Osgiliath, with Gimli and Beregond the Captain of Osgiliath at their side.

***


"Merry!" Pippin exclaimed, his voice echoing in the Halls of Minas Morgul. Aragorn shot him a warning glance, and he quietened his tone. He was ecstatic with his relief, for as Aragorn slipped Andúril under the cords spun by the spider who had caught the company off their guard of the way to Cirith Ungol, Pippin had once again seen his friend Merry.

Merry certainly looked very drowsy, and his face was dirtied from the struggle on the road, but when he opened his eyes upon Pippin a smile crossed his lips. "Pip," he murmured, "what spot of trouble did you get us in this time?"

Pippin rushed over and embraced his friend, "Oh Merry, I thought I'd lost you to that awful creature."

"Steady on," Merry replied, loosening himself from Pippin's grip. "My bones are aching, Pip."

Pippin blushed and withdrew slightly, "Oh, I hope I haven't hurt you!"

His friend smiled, "Not much." Then Merry's face became once again sombre and he cast his eyes to the other bundles which Aragorn was seeing to with Andúril. He whispered, his voice dry and hoarse, "Who else is there, Strider?"

Aragorn looked up from the cocoon he was working on and lifted a frail figure from amongst the cords. When his eyes beheld the face of the body he held, a dark look fell upon his face for in the King's arms lay one so resembling the Elf Prince Legolas that Aragorn would have sworn that it was his friend if he had not known otherwise. He put his hand over the mouth of the Elf, but he felt no breath issued from the still lips. He smoothed the golden hair away from the Elf's brow and rested the body upon the floor gently. Aragorn looked to Merry and Pippin who sat together next to the wall. "Tis the Prince Gloríen of Lasgalen," he murmured, his eyes saddened by the sight of the Elf laying as he was without breath, never to pass into the West. "The brother of Legolas and son of Tharundil."

Merry and Pippin looked upon the fair face, still as if in deep sleep, though his eyes were closed and they knew that it could not be so, and their hearts were grieved even though they had never met the Elf Prince because he looked so much like their dear friend.

After a moment of reverence, Aragorn turned back to the other three bundles and he unleashed the captives from their shrouds. As the webs fell away they saw the faces of Glorfindel the Elf-Lord of Imladris and Arda Estel and beside him were two other Elves, their dark hair dulled from their illness. All were alive, though they were weak and drowsy and when they looked about them at the great black halls, their fear and terror grew so much that Aragorn had difficulty subduing them. They had been profoundly affected by the poison of the dark creatures and Aragorn knew that they at once must be taken to Osgiliath were there would be Kingsfoil and the healers in the great Houses could tend to them with great effect. When Aragorn told them of Gloríen's death, they were distraught further still, though once they had been treated with the remaining athelas that Aragorn had brought with him, they were calmed and their temper was once again that of the immortal race who feared no peril and felt no threat. The Elves were extremely weary and soon they fell into a pained but restful slumber and Aragorn with the help of Pippin moved them underneath the safety of the staircase and the King then treated Merry with the remaining athelas and water from a bottle he carried.

"Have something to eat," Pippin said, offering Merry a wafer of lembas.

Merry shook his head and winced as Aragorn pressed a piece of cloth against the large sore on his chest. "No, not right now, Pip."

Pippin looked at Aragorn, "I fear he is desperately ill, Aragorn. He refused food!"

"That worries me deeply," Aragorn replied, managing a slight smile, "but then again, he is injured and I am sure in a while his appetite will return. Do not worry, my friend."

Merry laid back against the floor, minding not to disturb his ribs which ached insufferably, and he whispered: "Thank you."

Aragorn stood and looked down at the two hobbits and pulled Andúril from its sheath. "My friends, I shall leave you now in protection of the Elves. I trust you to take care of them whilst I am gone, for I have business here which must be attended to."

"You are leaving us, here, in the very lair of Shelob!" Pippin cried, then he checked the volume of his voice and looked up at Aragorn with curiosity. "What is the matter?"

"There is something I must see to in the Tower of the Moon," Aragorn took a step backwards out of the shadow and peered up the stairs. "It lies at the top of this staircase behind a great hall. It is a fine chamber where the Kings of Old would sit and watch the moon rise above Gondor and collect their thoughts. But for that reason to there I am not bound."

"Will you be back soon?" Merry asked sleepily. "You will not be gone for days, I hope."

"Nay, not days," Aragorn replied. "But it shall be a while, for my path will be far an long, if the books of lore tell of Minas Ithil justly. Here I must bid you a farewell." He put his hand to his brow and to his lips and looked at his friends, "The Host of Osgiliath will arrive shortly and you must go with them if I am not back before them. Elen síla lúmenn."

With that, Aragorn slipped into the darkness of the hall and behind he left with them the sheath of Andúril which glowed as it was of Elven craft and its soft light filled the air about the hobbits as they sat huddled together, listening to the King's footsteps falling upon the stairs.

***


The stars were high in the night sky when the Host set forth from Osgiliath, the standard of the King Elessar of Numenórean blood rippling in the gentle breeze of the summer night. Five hundred men rode out across the river Anduin, their armour glinting in the moonlight and the heads of their steeds raised in glory. At the front of them, leading the companies, was the Captain of Osgiliath, Beregond. He had once been a Guard of the Citadel of Minas Tirith, though as he had disobeyed the Steward of the Ecthelion, Denethor II, he had been thrown out of the guard to serve Prince Faramir in Minas Estel. Over the years he proved himself to be a fine Man and leader and the King Elessar and the Prince had awarded him the title of Captain and he had risen to his station with the best of intentions and had implemented them with honour.

So there it was that Beregond led the Host to Minas Morgul whilst in the Houses of Healing within the walls of the city, Faramir and Legolas were tended to by the wise healers of Osgiliath, with Gimli the Dwarf at their bedside keeping watch of their progress.

***


The steps to the Tower of the Moon were wide and endless, and as Aragorn stepped upon them they shifted under his feet as though he trod on thawing ice. Sometimes great chasms opened up in front of him and he was forced to leap across the fissures, taking care that his feet were not caught by the sticky webs that covered the steps with their eerie white gleam.

For hours he climbed, his route taking longer than he had originally thought for the stone was far less stable than would be expected and the webs impeded his movement greatly. As he walked he glanced about him, the light of the Elfstone creating a green haze about his body. Though however bright the stone was, its light did not reach from one side of the staircase to the other and at times Aragorn thought that he could sense the scuttling of creatures a little way beside him.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he was growing weary and he was tired of keeping on his guard so constantly so that with every slight noise he halted and checked about him only to find nothing. At this time the Host was drawing close to Minas Morgul, for they were at the Cross-roads and Beregond led his Men quickly for he knew that they must not tarry for long on their journey.

When Aragorn stepped from the stair he had to slice a path through the many great webs which created a wall of white between the steps and the hall beyond. Andúril made light work of the webs, but he had to cut his way through the cords carefully so as to not let them spring back into his face and cause him injury. There were many layers of webs and when he reached what seemed to be the last sheet of the opaque mesh he carved through the strands quickly and walked into the Hall of the Moon.

However, it was not as he had imagined it from the murals painted in the halls of Minas Tirith, for there it had been depicted in its splendour, with silver pillars and highly polished walls engraved with the cycle of the moon and highlighted with mithril filigree. The only resemblance it had to the paintings was the height of its great roof and the wide expanse of floor laying between the staircase and the door to the Tower of the Moon. Everything was shrouded in the thick webs of the spiders and the Hall resembled more the inside of a vast cocoon than a building of men, for it had been captured by the beasts and now they resided within their webs, waiting to catch any who dared to disturb their peace.

Then Aragorn drew a deep breath and instantly regretted it for the stench was so vile and thick that he was sick with its smell. He then raised his head, for in front of him, at the far end of the Hall was a great mass of blackness and nauseating stench for he had found the Lady of Minas Morgul, Shelob the Great, and about her hanging in their hammocks made of their own webs were thousands of her offspring. Aragorn studied them for a moment and saw that their many eyes were closed to him and in their sleep they did not perceive his presence. He let his breath fall form his lungs and he moved forward to the door which he knew lay behind Shelob. As he walked he was conscious of his need to be silent, for if he made the slightest sound he would wake the nest of spiders and he would surely be slain in an instant.

He hardly dared to breath as he moved, his eyes ever watching for a sign of movement about him, for the sight of the spiders crawling down the pillars to smite him, though this never was the case. Then Aragorn turned his gaze upon Shelob as he approached her, her belly swollen from the years of hunger when all she had to feats upon where the dead carcasses of small fowl that strayed into Torech Ungol. She was still great and terrible and when Aragorn walked over to where she lay in her sleep he was filled with something other than fear, something more like caution though stronger and more terrible. Then he found himself at her side and about him the air was heavier still with the awful smell of her bile and gluttonous desire. Her rough hide spilled over the flagstones in front of him and as he edged around her, Aragorn observed that Shelob was weak and weary from the attack Sam had launched upon her at Torech Ungol when she had stung Frodo. One of her great eyes were black and dead and the other was closed to Aragorn as he passed her.

The door to the Tower was within his sight and he drew another breath and peered around the Hall in the glow of the Elfstone, so sure that his passage without consequence was too easily allowed for it to be successful. However, as Aragorn stepped over to the door, there was perfect stillness about him. The great door of the Tower was locked in the same way as that of the Great Hall and the symbol of the rising moon glowed with the light of mithril as he looked upon it. The door was the only structure in the Hall of the Moon not to be blanketed with the webs of the spiders and he thought it not strange as Aragorn knew what lay beyond the door in the high chamber and he knew also what Shelob defended, even in her weakness as she made her lair in the great hall.

Aragorn placed his hand upon the moon, saying under his breath the words he had said earlier to gain admittance to the citadel. However, the doors did not open. He wished not to speak any louder for he knew with his next breath he might wake the sleeping monster that lay only a few feet away from him. He placed his hand upon the circle again and with the other grasped the hilt of his Elven blade and he spoke with greater force: "The King Elessar of Gondor has come to The Tower of the Moon. Let him enter and face his challenge."

As he spoke the words a great scuttling arose from the Hall and thousands of shining eyes filled the space with light. His heart fell and he turned about, gripping his sword, whit-knuckled. There was a groan as the dark mass of old hide that was Shelob rose from her resting place and turned on Aragorn. He stared into her mirror like eye and saw behind her thousands of spiders falling down from their beds in a tide of black and brown and gathering around their mother. Shelob moved slowly but she was still mobile and in a moment she had reached the King even as the doors behind him swung open. Aragorn brought the blade of Andúril down from a great height and plunged the blade into her only remaining eye, her green-yellow blood spurting forth from the wound and her body reeling from the pain. Shelob's children ran forward at him, their stings raised upwards ready to strike him down. Aragorn ran through the doorway into the great Chamber of the Tower of the Moon and he slammed the doors behind him, pressing against their weight with his shoulders just as the great beasts climbed over Shelob to attack him.

Aragorn breathed heavily and could feel behind the doors, the angry and fearful scratching of the spiders' claws against the heavy metal. He looked about him and he gripped Andúril tighter as he saw in front of him a great shadow. The shadow was taller than himself, for it was not a Man of Gondor, but it was a Man, however, clothed in dark armour and a cloak of black and it stood behind a stand on which there stood one of the palantír, glowing with a ghostly light.

"The King Elessar of Gondor and Arnor, Aragorn son of Arathorn, the Dúnedan, Chieftain of the Rangers of the North and rightful Lord of Minas Ithil, Tirith and Estel, has come to face your challenge and be rid of you for there is no place for you in this realm," Aragorn said, his voice strong and his eyes cool and fixed.

The figure stepped forth and spoke in a guttural tongue which none now spoke for it was a Morgul tongue used by Sauron and his kind. "I am the Lord of Minas Morgul," it said, and Aragorn understood for Gandalf had schooled him in such matters. "You should not expect victory to come to you with such ease."

And then light from the moon shone forth through the windows and fell upon one of the Kings of Angmar, and Aragorn beheld his doom, for the wraith had taken siege of Minas Morgul after he retreated to its shadows when the other eight Nazgul had been defeated, and he had grown in strength. He was one of the lesser Ring-Wraiths, but his power was still strong and he had challenged Aragorn, and the King had come, though he came not with not the same intent as Eärnur.

***
TBC
***

Chapter Nine - 'The Lord and Lady of Minas Morgul'


Told you there'd be a twist - now you have to go back and spot how much foreshadowing I included in the earlier chapters! More explanation of this situation in Chp 9 - so don't be all confused right now!

Sorry if the final two parts come slowly - they're all planned out, but I don't have much time to type it all out from my head (school starts again tomorrow).

Language Notes
============
Elen síla lúmenn - a star shines on us

Anyway, what do you think. Click the nice little button below and make it feel happy.

annadelamico@yahoo.co.uk
***