Well, well, welly welly well. I…I has a sad. My creativity. My emotions. All poured into a story….with no one to luv me. :'( That is my sad face. I have had awesomely brilliant reactions from this story. I love every single review. I'm not lying. I've gone back and read the reviews from previous chapters several times. They please me. I've read and written a lot of fanfiction in my day. I've known those douches that say "I won't post until I have blank number of reviews." That's ultra dumb. I'm gonna post this story because I'm enjoying the fuck out of writing it. I have a dragon and I'm not afraid to write him in awkward, Boromir snuggling scenes. I have half-Uruks and Wizards waiting in the wings for a chance at awesome. I have Galadriel-who-sometimes-drinks-her-mirror-water-an d-may-or-may-not-blow-up-Thranduil-and-that's-why- he-hates-her, and her husband Celeborn-who-slices-dragons-faces. I cut the power of Sauron from the Three Elven Rings and let a half-dragon wizard slam the Dark Lord's face into a tree. I'm not afraid of some plot deviation, here. To a certain extent, anyway. Did I mention Dragons? No? Well there's that.
I'm enjoying the hell out of this story. I just hope you are too. You could let me know if you are by dropping me a line (or seven) and telling me. :D Peace, my home skillet bizkitz.
Chapter 10 – Deep and Dark Places
"Shadow!"
Merry tried to wrench himself out of Strider's grasp, but the Man's hands held him tightly.
"Merry! We do not know the integrity of the stone around that opening! You mustn't approach it! Be still!" Aragorn commanded. The authority in his voice gave Merry pause, but then tears took him. He went boneless with grief in Aragorn's hold. Pippin and Frodo approached, taking the grieving Hobbit from Aragorn.
"Gimli! You know more about stone than any here. How safe is it to approach that opening?" Gandalf asked. Gimli lowered himself to kneel; tapping his axe against the stone as he slowly crawled towards the place where the floor opened up.
"There was a pillar below that collapsed- or was taken down. Seems to me that everything is safe right up to the edge," the Dwarf said, standing to his feet. Gandalf approached the edge of the black opening, holding his staff over the hole. There was a cloud of dust that he could see about twenty feet down. It was unclear what the room may have been at one time, but there were the remains of a staircase directly below.
The dragon moved to the edge, looking down with keen eyes.
"I see them," James said. The dust shifted a bit and Gandalf could see moving shapes amongst the cloud, and a small light. One large shape…that would be Boromir. A tall, thin shape was Legolas. And the moving light was Shadow. "They live."
"Boromir, Legolas, and Shadow," Gandalf spoke steadily, his voice raised slightly but trying to draw as little attention as possible.
"I hear you, Mithrandir," Came Legolas' voice, strangled slightly with dust.
"Good, good. Are you hurt?" Gandalf asked.
"A few scrapes. Boromir's armor bore the brunt of his fall and he was saved from taking another tumble by our dear youngling. Friend shadow has a few cuts. I feel no ill effects as of yet," Legolas replied, holding the shaking young man to him. "I don't suppose anyone has rope?"
"Rope! I knew I'd need it if I didn't pack it, and by golly we could have used it!" Sam grumbled. Aragorn turned to James.
"I don't suppose you have rope, Naurlam?" he asked. James grumbled.
"No rope. Forgot to pack it," he said.
"No rope, Master Legolas. Not even our vastly prepared dragon friend has any," Gandalf said. Boromir heard this, and scoffed aloud.
"Are you telling me that the frigging dragon packed pine pitch and empty vials but not any rope? We are on a quest to save the Eru-damned world and nobody here, not amongst eleven companions, has any rope? Oh, this is just incomparable. Absolutely inestimable," Boromir snapped.
He heard a growl waft downwards and looked up to see the dragon leaning over the edge of the hole, his golden eyes gleaming in the light of Gandalf's staff.
"Why can't the dragon fly down here?" he asked upwards.
"Boromir, the dragon was caught in the avalanche at Caradhras. His wing is not healed," Aragorn said.
"Can he at least make a couple more of those starlights for Legolas and I? We do not have a staff," Boromir replied, sparing a glance at the boy's necklace light.
James went back into his pack, searching for a couple extra vials. The pockets that had his potions supplies inside were the best bet. He shifted through the few herbs and readymade potions, trying to decide what might be sacrificed. Finally he withdrew a sleeping potion and a stomach soothing potion. He emptied the contents onto the floor. He found a couple more strands of chord, but it was not enough for two necklaces. They would have to wear their lights around their wrists or tie it at their belt.
He made the two lights and stood at the edge of the hole, using a Levitation spell to lower them gently. He had no more vials to spare and he couldn't afford to let these break. He wished he could use Levitation to retrieve the three below, but human Levitation was tricky, and he had never tried it in his dragon form. If he made the wrong move he could drop them face first into gaping nothingness.
Boromir and Legolas took the new lights from the air.
"What is the plan, Mithrandir? We do not know this place. How will we get to you?" Legolas asked, looping the chord around the strap of his pack.
"If I remember the layout correctly, there is a Great Hall that is easily reached from all floors. It is above us. You must keep traveling upwards. That is the only advice I can give you. Whatever you do, you must not travel downwards," Gandalf said vehemently.
"Sir Gimli? Do you have any advice for us?" asked Sceadu's voice. Gimli looked a bit surprised to have been called on by the boy, when his opinion of the lad was very clear.
"Don't step on any more fissures," Gimli replied gruffly.
"Helpful. Very helpful," Boromir growled.
"What Gandalf said is true. Keep to the fresher tunnels, for they will be the ones to lead upwards. Stay away from the stagnant air," Gimli added.
"Better. Thank you, Master Dwarf. May we all be brought together again soon," Legolas said. Then he turned to the two companions. "I am lighter of step and keener of eye. I will be our guide, trying to spot any pitfalls or missteps. Little Shadow must walk between us, Boromir. Do you mind taking rear guard?" Legolas asked.
Boromir adjusted the pack and shield over his back.
"I do not mind. Let us make haste and rejoin our company as quickly as possible."
So they moved forward, up the staircase, with only the bluish light of the Dragon's starlights to give them sight.
Gandalf seemed pleased. "I chose the right way," he said. "At last we are coming to the habitable parts, and I guess that we are not far now from the eastern side. But we are high up, a good deal higher than the Dimrill Gate, unless I am mistaken. From the feeling of the air we must be in a wide hall. I will now risk a little real light."
He raised his staff, and for a brief instant there was a blaze like a flash of lightning. Great shadows sprang up and fled, and for a second they saw a vast roof far above their heads upheld by many mighty pillars hewn of stone. Before them and on either side stretched a huge empty hall; its black walls, polished and smooth as glass, flashed and glittered. Three other entrances they saw, dark black arches: one straight before them eastwards, and one on either side. Then the light went out.
"That is all that I shall venture on for the present," said Gandalf. "There used to be great windows on the mountain-side, and shafts leading out to the light in the upper reaches of the Mines. I think we have reached them now, but it is night outside again, and we cannot tell until morning. If I am right, tomorrow we may actually see the morning peeping in. But in the meanwhile we had better go no further. Let us rest, if we can. Things have gone well so far, and the greater part of the dark road is over. But we are not through yet, and it is a long way down to the Gates that open on the world."
"Is this the hall that we will reunite with our friends?" Merry asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.
He had taken to his protective role in a fierce and surprising way. Indeed he saw Sceadu as family, even if it wasn't by blood. If they all made it through this ordeal, he had plans to take the young man with him back to the Shire. He would be the first Orc to step foot in those rolling hills, but it was his hope that Sceadu could live a life of peace in the emerald hills that he couldn't find anywhere else in this world. He had spoken of this dream to no one else, not even Pippin. He wished he had mentioned it to the boy before they had become separated. Though nature had made them quite opposite, he would take the half-Uruk as a son if he would be allowed to do so. Youth did not make poor parents if their hearts were set on the task.
"Nay. This hall and the hall I spoke of are separated by chambers and stairways. Even then we can only hope that our friends haven't become lost in the maze that is Moria. Their lights should prove invaluable: without them I fear they would have stood no chance," Gandalf said, sparing a look at the dragon. "Our winged friend may very well have saved their lives."
"Just doing my job," James said. He felt a timid pat on his side from Pippin and he swung his head towards the Hobbit, rubbing his nose against Pippin's shoulder in return.
"Let us rest here tonight. It may be in a few hours we will see the morning light," Gandalf said.
"Legolas would have been glad of that. I would that they were all here," Aragorn replied softly.
"If the lad hadn't gone stomping about-," Gimli started.
"Any of us could have broken the floor. Shadow certainly isn't the heaviest among us. We have two Men, an armored Dwarf, a Wizard, and a Dragon that all weigh more than he does individually," Merry growled. Gimli was surprised at the Hobbit's fervor.
"You defend him with the ferociousness of a father, Master Hobbit," he said softly. Merry's face lost a little of its ferocity.
"Any father would be lucky to have a son such as Shadow. Perhaps in time I may lay that claim to the boy," Merry said, causing more than a few eyebrows to rise.
"You would adopt the orc-pup?" Gimli asked in vast surprise.
"He cannot help his lineage. And who knows? Perhaps there are others like him. Perhaps he was sent to us to be an ambassador of his kind. I hear story and story again of the cruelty of orcs. Uruks are bred from them, and seem to share the love of the same sport. Shadow's mother cannot be the first woman who was…who has…run afoul of the creatures in such a way," Merry sputtered a bit. Rape was something that was just not heard of in the Shire. There hadn't been such a case in over a hundred years. Hobbits just…didn't do stuff like that.
"If Uruks favor the sport of their Orc fathers, then why do you defend the boy with such fervor?" Gandalf asked candidly. He was truly curious.
"Because he is also half human…and does he not deserve the chance to prove that the mercy of his mother overcame the blood sport of his father? Are we to judge you, Gandalf, on the actions of Saruman? He is another of your kind. Are we to judge Aragorn and Boromir based on the actions of the Men of Harad or Rhûn? They are Men. Do we judge all elves on the surliness of King Thranduil? There are ever bad examples and there will always be bad people in this world, but should the ones who want to do good be punished for it all?" Merry asked.
They were silent. Never had Merry been so vehement or passionate. He seemed very mature in that moment, even to the point of sobering Pippin. The other Hobbits were quiet with contemplation. Gandalf gave the Hobbit a wide smile, his beard rustling with it.
"My, my, Master Meriadoc. If you keep it up, you may be counted amongst the Wise, soon," he teased good naturedly. Merry flushed with pleasure at the compliment. "But you are right. I meant you no harm with my question. Here, come and sit with me for a spell, that we may discuss the idea of young Master Shadow being an ambassador," he finished, patting the ground upon which he was resting. Merry moved to sit beside the wizard, nervously twisting at his pack straps.
The Company spent that night in the great cavernous hall, huddled close together in a corner to escape the draught: there seemed to be a steady inflow of chill air through the eastern archway.
He stood in front of a twisted throne of bone and stone, encased in dark armor and trailing a cloak of deep crimson. His helmet was removed, revealing a cold face devoid of emotion. His long hair was black as pitch and streaked white in places. His eyebrows were thick and arched sharply, lending a villainous air to his face. But his eyes were the most prominent feature. They were like fire, red and orange and yellow that burned in swirling dark magic and marred by a thin black slit for the pupil.
Sixty years it had been since he had faced that boy-dragon in that forsaken Dream world. He had lost his connection with the Three. He had taken a humiliating beating by the boy, and then a near thrashing by that Elf whore, Galadriel. He had held her beneath him, felt her life leaving her as he strangled her…he had been so very close to claiming her life. But she had gotten back the power he had bound from her Ring of Power, and then the connection between them had been severed.
And with the severing he had lost the ability to spy on the Dragon. The only comfort he had was that the beast was still bound in his dragon form. He could not take the Man form just yet. He had a suspicion that if the boy ever met up with that witch Galadriel again he would probably have a way to remove the collar, but it had not happened yet.
There were too many annoyances as of late. His Ring was out there somewhere, in the hands of a lesser being, and he was unable to leave the Tower because of it. His power was bound to Barad Dûr for the time being, so he had to remain within its walls to keep this form. It was true that he could leave as a spirit, but it took a good six months for him to rematerialize when he left the tower, so he had not done that in a long, long time.
A shadowy figure slithered through the door, floating along languidly like a dark cloud.
"Ah, Hathalmyrn, my servant. What news have you to bring to me?" Sauron asked sibilantly, seating himself upon his wretched throne like a dark King.
"My Master, thy malevolence is matched only by thy power," The wraith hissed, landing on two feet and sinking gracefully to his knees in front of his master. "I bring news of Wizards, Master. There are Wizards coming out of the ground like moles!"
"Wizards? Are they sent by the Valar? Have they realized that their paltry army of craftsmen is no match for the Great Wolf?" he asked, a grin forming on his face and revealing the points of individually sharpened teeth.
"The White Wizard possessed an apprentice who was not sent by the Valar, but was graced by them. Thou wouldst be pleased to know that it is a woman: she is no threat!" the wraith laughed. Sauron laughed lightly, the sound like steel tumbling in a stone landslide. "But there are three more, Master. They have landed in the Forest of Rhûn. And they have cast their lot with the Blue Wizards."
"The Blue Wizards?" Sauron asked silkily. "But, my good and faithful Hathalmyrn…you told me that the Blue Wizards were destroyed in a raid nearly five hundred years ago," he purred. Hathalmyrn froze where he knelt, before a keening whimper escaped him.
"We thought they were, Master! Have mercy on a wretched servant! I have only served thee!" Hathalmyrn wailed, reaching out his bony hands and placing himself prostrate before the black throne.
"Oh, Hathalmyrn," Sauron murmured, standing from the throne. He walked with heavy steps down the blackened stone of the dais, before crouching near the prostrate wraith. His armor, imbued with dark magic, bent with his will. He picked up the wraith by the back of its cloak like a recalcitrant puppy. He held the quivering form near his face, his flickering eyes boring into the faceless hood. "I need all of my servants in one piece right now. You have a period of grace announced to you at this time. But know, my naughty little wraith, that once I have my Ring on my hand again, I will have you chained spread-eagle in Udûn, roasting over a fiery chasm while Khamûl whips you with lashes of ice and shadow. You will pay dearly for lying to me," he rumbled calmly, before dropping the wraith and standing tall.
His booted foot lashed out, kicking the lump of shrouded bones clean across the room.
"Get out of my sight and remedy the problem of the Blue Wizards and their consorts! Fail me again and I will retract my grace to you, you useless pile of festering bones!" Sauron barked. Hathalmyrn scrambled to his feet and lifted off of the ground, shooting out of the throne room as if the hounds of hell were on his feet.
Sauron stalked back up the stone steps and fell heavily into his throne.
"I am surrounded by failure. Surely I was never so incompetent when I served Morgoth? He would not have given half as much grace as I have. Perhaps I am too merciful. Should I start burning my enemies at the stake again? Maybe I should have their remains raped by orcs and send back their rotting heads to their families? Hmm…there's always having them lynched in their own front yard and leaving the body to dangle as an ornament for their neighbors…"
Sometimes it was difficult to be a Dark Lord.
Deep in the heart of Moria, far below the shadows of the upper levels and under the silvery veins of Mithril it lay in slumber. Long had it slept peacefully in the deep earth, allowing the soothing shadows to keep it company. It was of an Age long past, a time when monsters and demons walked the world freely. The power of its Master had once brought the world of Men to its knees, and nearly cowed the hearts of Elves and the power of the Valar. With a start it awoke.
Fire flared like a furnace coming to life, filling the chamber it slept in with light and heat. It stretched luxuriously across the floor, flexing talons of onyx and scraping its curved horns across the floor. Sparks arced away from the protuberances and the taste of sulfur and ash was in its mouth.
What was it that had disturbed it from its slumber?
A long tongue of fire flitted from its mouth, tasting and smelling the air. It was familiar and foreign at the same time. Master had once wielded it. It tasted the air several more times, the feeling growing stronger and stronger. A sudden intake of breath was drawn, wicking all of the air out of the room and causing the fire in its body to flicker a bit. Then the breath was released and the fire flared, a delighted gleam coming to crimson and black eyes.
Magic.
Well. That's awkward.
I know, I know, I didn't have any major action here in Moria. Would it make you feel better to know that there's going to be some crazy shenanigans going on next chapter? Also a lot of innuendos and some bro bonding. *Happy face*
And fire. Lots and lots of gratuitous fire. I like fire. It's pretty. -_-
So, I've poured out my little Hobbit's heart to you and given you a Dark Lord with anger issues. You should let me know how you liked it. You should also tell me exactly how you'd like to see Draca deal with Wormtongue….because honestly the only reason I didn't put in a scene about that in this chapter is because I'm still pondering it, and I do not want to rush that shit. I want to let it simmer.
…Review?