A/N: I call the short round-end wooden sticks, "bo sticks" because their existence is loosely based on the "bo" a short wooden stick used in many of the martial arts.

This story is extremely complicated and with the multiple story lines and the numerous characters, the chapters are becoming quite difficult to write. Having to write from the viewpoint of an elf is one thing, but to write part of a story from inside the mind of an insane dragon is another matter entirely. I thank all the readers who have stuck with the story so far - your patience is appreciated.

Courage and perseverance
have a magical talisman,
before which difficulties disappear
and obstacles vanish into air.
John Quincy Adams

PREVIOUSLY:

When everyone was present around the campfire, the briefing began.

"Well, it looks like the time has come to do what we came to do. Remember this one thing and the rest will come along naturally; no matter how much time we spent planning things, anything could still happen and so, my friends, expect the unexpected for if you do, it might just save your life.

Legolas, you have a second drugged arrow, so if you miss your first shot, use it. Gandalf … keep an eye on Mirkwood for me!"

Gandalf nodded then winked at her.

"If nobody has any questions, get dressed and get ready to go. The sun will peak over the top of the mountain in less than an hour and that is when we want to leave."

The elves split off and began putting on their stealth uniforms, each keeping an eye on the horizon.

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AND NOW:

Chapter 21

Battle at Carn-dûm – Part I

The first rays of the morning sun were just beginning to warm the tops of the mountains and the lands beyond. The Rescuers were gathered in small groups, speaking to each other in hushed tones as they finalized plans and adjusted uniforms and equipment in preparation for what lay ahead. There was a high level of tension in the group although this was to be expected for they were about to walk into the den of the enemy and take something from him, and they were extremely eager for the business to begin.

Súrion walked to where Anayah was standing, staring off in the direction of the cavern. Every once in awhile she would bounce up and down on the balls of her feet then would close her eyes and take deep soothing breaths. She was understandably nervous, but still managed a smile when she saw the Silvan Guard approaching.

"Are things about ready, Súrion?" She looked towards where Rahan stood with the other two Guards and seeing that her attention was on him, the Captain nodded his head in her direction.

"I do believe they are, Anayah."

He put one hand on her shoulder and with the other hand tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes and after some careful scrutiny, decided he was satisfied with what he saw. There was nervous anticipation, yes, but there was also a steady determination. She was ready for what they were about to do.

"I just wanted to go over the stealth philosophy with you one more time before we take off. Once you are up on that ledge and are making your way around the room, you will be in plain sight so you must take great care not to be seen for as long as you can. Keep your head in the game - stay focused - and everything should be fine."

He then turned her around and started to massage the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders then bent over and whispered in her ear.

"No fear."

"Have no fear, for fear changes the body. Fear is something that can be smelled by the highest and the lowest forms of life and if present, can put you in mortal danger."

"Good. Now … no mind." He continued.

"No mind. Consciousness lives in the mind. Thoughts, perceptions, needs and emotions live within the consciousness. If consciousness can be focused elsewhere; if thoughts, perceptions, needs and emotions can be focused elsewhere; if all these things can be done, then within the mind will exist only a void, which as such can't be seen. If the mind or what it contains cannot be seen then I cannot be seen – no mind."

She turned around and looked up at her friend.

"Súrion, I am not a Thurin Tirith … I don't know if I can do this."

Súrion wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"I have faith in you, little sister, faith that you can do this thing; we all have faith in you."

"When Gandalf teaches me something new, he gives me a long time to practice and learn it."

The Guard chuckled and winked at her.

"But he is not a Thurin Tirith, my young friend, and I am."

Súrion turned, preparing to walk back to the other Guards and when he did so, came face to face with the Grey Wizard. Thinking that his recent comment would quite soon be the painful cause of his demise, he froze in one place, his eyes the size of tea cups, or so Gandalf would later claim. The wizard was not smiling and as Súrion continued to be held in place by the force of Gandalf's gaze, the Guard could have sworn that the irises of the wizard's eyes started to whirl. He jumped as Gandalf laid a hand on his shoulder before turning and walking away, chuckling to himself as he went.

"And who says I don't have a sense of humor?" The old wizard muttered, just loud enough for the two elves to hear.

Anayah looked seriously at Súrion who was unaware that he had been standing with one hand clutching his heart, and after the Silvan Guard had let out the breath he wasn't aware he had been holding, he and Anayah started walking in the direction of the others.

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Banion and his four Thurin Tirith walked up to Anayah and her four Guards, and after the two Charges touched foreheads, checked the equipment and weapons each was carrying. The safety check, though it might have seemed redundant to some, secured the least little details into their minds and was also a courteous way between warriors, of saying good luck.

Both Anayah and Banion then separated their elves into the groups that would be going to a particular level and after that task had been accomplished, all three groups turned and waited for the signal to leave. Sauros was not present but was waiting in the forest in dragon form having already wished them "luck in battle" at an earlier time.

Anayah turned to Gandalf and Legolas. She took the hand of her friend and mentor, and held it to her heart and in turn, Gandalf threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly, then pushed her away from him while he looked elsewhere – Istar Wizards did not feel apprehension for those they cared about, after all.

She and Legolas touched foreheads, looked into each other's eyes, then hugged.

"Be well and shoot true, my friend." Anayah said before turning away.

Legolas turned and looked at Gandalf sharply as he heard the wizard's breath hitch and when he finally caught his eye, the old Maia winked at him.

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It was time. Anayah had been resting on one knee while she watched the sun and when the first full rays hit the entrance of Carn-dûm she rose to her feet and looked at Eglamar and Duilin of the Avari Guards and Semoro of her own Guards.

Go! She signaled to them.

When the three Guards who would be fighting on the top level were half the distance to the cave's entrance, she motioned to the next three elves, her Saeros and Súrion and Banion's Bansil, and as soon as the three saw her hand drop, they started their run.

Then the final group of elves prepared themselves and this time after a verbal signal, Banion, Rahan, Anayah and Erenol took off. Things were now in motion that many beings had spent numerous hours planning, and if all went without serious incident, they would soon be on their way back to Imladris with one more being added to their number than that which they had arrived with.

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To the unschooled eye, the outer walls of Carn-dûm, looked to be without defect or blemish – smooth, stern and unclimbable – but to those Thurin Tirith trained, it was but another path for them to travel. Special gloves that could give added grip strength to already strong hands, combined with special boots with special soles that would provide a more secure footing, would allow the elves to climb the stone walls safely, soundlessly and with a minimum of effort. Though the two Units had never before worked together, the teamwork they now displayed as each elf scaled the wall, was of the highest quality.

By the time Anayah and her elves had reached the cavern, the first two groups were well on their way up the walls to the outside entrances of the cavern. Banion reached the rock wall first and with a great leap was able to grab hold of the lip in front of the entrance and pull himself up. Quickly and quietly he entered the darkened cavern, to stand the watch until the others joined him.

When Rahan reached the wall, he immediately turned and after lacing his fingers together, created a platform for Anayah to jump from. One booted foot was placed in his hands then the Captain lifted her to the ledge where she slipped inside to wait with Banion. Rahan then effortlessly pulled himself up to the small stone platform in front of the entrance and after turning around and getting a nod from Erenol, went inside as well.

Just before he followed his Noldor counterpart into the cavern, Erenol turned toward the forest on the other side of the meadow where he knew Gandalf was closely watching their progress. He waved his arm to signal that he was going inside and even though he couldn't see the wizard's acknowledgement, knew that Gandalf was on his way to do his part.

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The windows of Carn-dûm, were not windows in the classic sense of light and atmosphere, being little more than glass covered, narrow, vertical openings in the walls of the cave that let in enough light for everyone to work by – or whatever evil did to occupy itself in its spare time. There were shadows, yes, and it was within these shadows that the Thurin Tirith now hid themselves as they waited for the signal to begin the next step in the rescue of the dragon Lord.

Each Guard carried two, two-foot pieces of round tipped and polished wood in their back scabbards, next to their swords or long knives, and it would be with one or both of these "bo sticks" that the windows would be broken. They would all wait for Zoraht to leave the cave, then for a mental message from Anayah before they would do anything, for they didn't want the noise of battle to draw the insane dragon back to the cave. As the one who would be closest to the cave entrance, Anayah would not only know when he left the cave but when he would be far enough away so that the din of battle would not attract undue attention. They all considered these facts one more time as they melted into the shadows where not even a passing Orc would be able to sense them if they passed by.

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"Come on. Come on." Gandalf mumbled to himself as he watched the elves scaling the outer walls of Carn-dûm. He then shook his head at his own behavior. "Now I am talking to myself – well, I can get away with it ... I will just blame it on my advanced age."

He fell silent when he saw Erenol waving. Knowing it was time, he closed his eyes then pointed toward the entrance of the cave with his staff, his lips moving silently as he cast the Lure spell.

"Cloudy eyes, uncertain, not wise. Follow your heart, all-seeing it is not. What you see will lead you where you think you want to be."

The stone at the end of his staff began to pulse with an iridescent white light, which disappeared after a few seconds. Gandalf straightened up and after a few moments of watching the cavern entrance, nodded to himself and turned away to where Legolas was waiting with Huan.

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Zoraht was lying on the hot sands of the cavern's floor with his eyes half-lidded as he watched the great dragon sleeping his drugged sleep. Though he, himself was also feigning slumber, he couldn't quite keep himself from an occasional deep throated rumble, for such was his hate for the immortal lying in front of him.

How dare this dragon have Dragonhome to look forward to. How dare this dragon and his mate even think of leaving him behind, he who had spent the greater part of his life guarding Asgorath and Ederyn, disregarding his own needs and desires in their names. Over the millennia, he had passed up many prospective mates and even when his own neck grew thick with the need to mate, he had had to turn away, for he had a duty to his two Charges and could not forsake that duty even in the name of love ... or lust. Now, one of the two he had come to despise, lay before him and once more his own future and maybe even his life depended on the female of the pair, whether she could be caught and made to fulfill the Witch King's master plan.

Zoraht snorted, puffing up the dust of the cavern's hot, sandy floor as he did so. He knew what the Witch King really wanted. It was the dragon's golden horn, the mark of Ilúvatar, put on the forehead of each dragon as a mark of his blessing before each had begun their quest. The horn. The ring. The power. One and the same. But just how did the Úlaire come by this lust for power, this greed, when his soul was already in bondage unto the ending of all things? Why would he lust for this horn? The horn. The ring. The power. Which would be greater? Control of life, or possession of that which the Creator, himself, had blessed ... had touched. And could that thing be used to break free from another dark Lord's iron grasp? Could he buy back his soul? Or was it just an illusion ... an illusion ... his head turned to the entrance of the cave ... an illusion ... her ... it could be her ...

Zoraht blinked his eyes and shook his head to clear it of the thoughts he could no longer remember and which he no longer wanted to think about ... insane ... he ... His eyes opened wide as he saw the hindquarters and long, graceful tail of a dragon sliding past the door – an opalescent white hindquarters and tail. Could it be?

If Ederyn was here and was going to attempt to free her mate ... if he could get to her first, perhaps he would be able to talk to her, persuade her to form an alliance with himself, the younger dragon, the one who knew where true power existed ... if she was unwilling ... his eyes began to whirl ... his neck began to thicken ... he could smell her musk ... he would have her – one way or the other. He rose from his dragon bed and moved toward the entrance.

Another set of half-lidded eyes watched the red dragon's progress with interest, for he too had felt the wizard's spell. As the last of Zoraht's long red tail left the cave, great amber eyes looked upward at the activity on the two top levels of the cavern then lowered ... and lowered ... and peered into the shadows ... into the deepest of the darkest shadows. He knew ... he could feel their presence ... he could finally hope. With a resigned and hopeful sigh, his great eyes once more slipped shut.

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Zoraht walked his own length outside the door of the cavern then paused, scanning the area around and across the meadow from where he now stood. He had been a sentinel, a guardian, for too long. Something was making him uneasy; someone or something was out there that meant him harm. Tall on his hind legs he rose, his great wings spread wide.

Zoraht!

Just as he was going to begin roaring, he heard his name called and catching movement on the periphery of his vision, swung his head in that direction. He could just see the white shape of his Lady as she made her way silently and gracefully through the trees. He dropped to all fours and turned his body in the direction Ederyn had taken and as he moved to follow, started calling out in the short bleating sounds of subservience. It couldn't hurt to try to act the part if it meant he could get closer to her ... to her ... to power.

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From his secured position in the trees, Legolas' heart began to beat madly as he closely watched Zoraht look in his direction then rise to his feet. For a moment he had considered running – almost – until Zoraht had lowered himself back to all fours then had walked off into the forest to the right of the cavern entrance. The dragon was starting to move away from him and the time for making a clean shot was moving away as well. He let out a shaky breath then took another slower breath to calm himself for what was to come.

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He looked down at the great long bow that he had been holding so gently with his right hand while his left hand and arm had cradled the warm wood to his chest, much as they would have a newborn elfling. He sighed, for he knew with certainty that he could put off the deed no longer and spoke to the bow one last time before turning back to the forest.

"Ok, Huan. Let's get this thing done – in your Lady's name."

He raised the bow.

"An archer must be keen of eye."

His strong arms and sure hands drew back the string.

"He must be sure of hand."

The supple ends of the bow gracefully curved towards him.

"He must be fleet of foot."

He took a deep breath and held it.

"And canny of mind."

Legolas kept his eyes on his target even a few moments after the arrow had left the string. He watched the arrow fly straight and true, silent and deadly, on a mission meant to put one consciousness to sleep so another might be freed of his bonds and from his captivity. Yes, he watched the arrow fly true ... and miss its target.

He felt as all the blood left his face, even as it took him a moment to register the fact that he had missed his target. It mattered not that the dragon had stepped in front of a branch that deflected it enough to alter its trajectory, something that was not in his power to foresee or plan for. It mattered not that the arrow did manage to score the dragon's thickly muscled neck deep enough to draw blood and that if it drew blood, some of the anesthetic was entering his bloodstream and slowing him down. The only fact that registered in his mind was that he had missed his target and in that small space of time the dragon had paused and after turning his head, had looked into the shadows where he was standing.

All this took but the space of one breath. And in the next breath, Prince Legolas Thranduilion, Crown Prince of the Mirkwood Realm, proved to history and posterity just why he was considered one of the best archers in Middle-earth. In less than the space of a breath and without removing his eyes from his target, he reached for the second arrow in the stand, tapped it to remove the protective cap on the end, knocked it, and let it fly. If anyone had been watching, they would have sworn that they had barely been able to keep track of the Prince's movements, so swift were they.

The second arrow flew just as true as the first as again Legolas kept his eyes on his target. The difference this time was that nothing interfered with the arrow's trajectory until a dull sound was faintly heard as the arrow hit its mark, as it entered the dragon's throat. There was a simple look of surprise and disbelief in the dragon's eyes as he turned his head and looked at the arrow sticking out of his neck. When he finally fell to the ground, it was not with the grace and dignity that he was usually noted for but was with the gracelessness expected of an unconsciousness dragon the size of a dwelling of a family of elves.

Following the well orchestrated plans, Legolas did not remain over long, looking at the dragon, for it was known that if the dragon went down then the potent and powerful sedative that had coated the tip of the arrow had done its work and the dragon was unconscious – it was time to move on to the next step of the rescue. Methodically yet quickly, Legolas broke the great takedown longbow down, and after a caress of thanks, put Huan back in his case.

Feeling eyes on him, he looked up and saw Gandalf watching him from the shadows a small distance further down on the edge of the forest. He smiled at the wizard and nodded and in return, Gandalf raised his staff – "well met" being the message sent, then turned away to send a mental message to the warriors in place inside the cavern so that the next, and most difficult part of the battle could begin.

Inside the cave, Anayah stilled her movements as she caught Gandalf's thoughts. She then relayed the message to the other elves – time to get this thing done. And so it came to pass.

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The sedated dragon Lord also "heard" the order to begin the battle inside the cavern and when he did, his heart soared at the prospect of freedom and once more being able to see his mate and twine necks with her. His heart felt sustained by this prospect and the hope it gave him. Asgorath began to consciously will himself as close to alertness as he could manage, for his thoughts were still muddled. He didn't know if his legs would support him when the time came for them to put forth an effort, but he knew he would do his best to assist these brave elves in whatever way he could and when called upon to do so.

But he had not gotten to his advanced age by being a stupid creature and knew that he could not do anything that would draw the attention of his captors and possibly jeopardize either his benefactors or their efforts. And so he decided to feign a sedated state until his part in the present game came time to play.

Some of his sedated state had always been an affectation, for he had found out in the beginning that the Orcs and fell beasts found no amusement in tormenting an unconscious being. To that end, he had spent much of his time "sleeping" and being left alone. He nonchalantly moved as if he was restless in his sleep and flexed his wounded shoulder to see how mobile it might be. It was going to be a problem, for it had not been tended since the fell beast had raked it with its filthy talon and was now filled with infection. But, he decided, he would have to be missing that shoulder altogether before it would keep him from doing his best to escape his attackers.

The sound of breaking glass caught his attention and he looked up to see light flooding into the cavern. And so it had come down to it at last. He closed his eyes so that one more pawn for the game ahead could be kept in reserve.

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The Guards on the top two levels had broken out the windows then after putting their bo sticks back in their back scabbards had taken either their swords or long knives and turned to face the many Orcs who were now rushing toward them. They had been attracted by the noise and had focused their attention on the intruders, so when they stepped into the bright, outside light streaming in through the broken windows, had been forced to pause and hold up their hands to shield their sensitive eyes until they could adjust. The elven warriors did not find themselves hindered by the light and had taken out several of the enemy before they met their first resistance.

On the first level, after the noise from the Guards breaking the windows had begun to be heard and had started drawing the notice of the Orcs, Rahan and Erenol had thrown the thin glass bottles containing the potent liquid anesthetic to the ground next to the heads of the sleeping fell beasts. The two creatures didn't have time to open their eyes before the fumes of the anesthetic rendered them profoundly unconscious. The residents of the cavern had no time to wonder why the beasts had not given an alarm as they drew their own weapons and joined the battle.

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When the battle had first begun, Rahan had laced his fingers together and Anayah had lightly stepped into his hand, after which the Captain had easily raised her up until she could grasp the ledge and pull herself up onto it. From her new position high above the cavern floor, she came to understand one of the reasons why it was good to be small and why she was the only elf who could do what she was in the process of doing. There was no way that any of the larger elves, or even Legolas, as slender and agile as he was, could have fit nor could have negotiated the narrow stone path that ran around the wall of the first floor level. The small ledge was the only way to negotiate the room, for it would have been suicide to try taking the direct route across the floor. She was nimble, she was quick, and she used both skills now as she carefully made her way to where the dragon Lord lay sleeping in his chains.

Different Orcs would occasionally look in her direction and when she felt their filthy mental touch would still her movements, close her eyes, and in her mind would say: My mind is a void and the void cannot be seen – no mind. After a few moments, when she felt the touch withdrawn, would open her eyes and move on. She was satisfied, for though some of the creatures had looked directly at where she stood on the ledge, they had not seen her. It was a marvel that elves like Súrion could do something like this so easily, for in truth, it exhausted her to do the same thing just the few times the present situation had demanded.

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At first, the Orcs had been hampered by the additional light from the broken windows, but after their eyes had adjusted, they had joined the fight with much enthusiasm. Though more skilled at the simple art of walking on two feet than those they fought, the Guards on both levels were still greatly outnumbered and found themselves being pushed towards parts of the level where they would be trapped and possibly killed – the Orcs knew this and were much encouraged.

Súrion had been using his long knives with deadly accuracy, blades flashing and sometimes blinding the Orcs as they caught the outside light and reflected it into their eyes. The blood-splattered Guards were holding their ground as best they could when the Silvan Guard got an idea. He looked to Bansil on his right and Saeros on his left.

"Fall back to the barracks!" He yelled.

"Lieutenant?"

Súrion looked at the big Avari Guard.

"Trust me." Was all he said.

And trust him they did, as they made their way into the large room that contained the filthy, smelly sleeping pallets of the soldiers of Carn-dûm. As was normal behavior for the Orcs, they followed the elves, thinking that they were actually forcing the fair beings to retreat before their greater numbers. They did not question that when they entered the barracks room there was only one elf in front of them and the other two were nowhere to be seen.

Excellent weapons for close-quarter fighting, Súrion's long knives were never still, dancing in lethal patterns as their wielder drew the enemy further into the room. The Silvan Guard twirled his long knives once in each hand, as he reversed the blades before smoothly placing them in his back scabbard. Taking a short run, he then leapt to the wall, running along it for a few steps before jumping and catching an overhead beam. Already being quite near the door, it did not take him but a few hand-over-hand movements until he finally dropped to the floor behind the surprised mob and exited the room.

While exiting, he passed Bansil who was standing by one of the doors and the Avari raised an eyebrow in appreciation of the feat just performed by the Silvan Guard. In turn, Súrion shrugged his shoulders before helping his two friends to close the doors. Understanding what Súrion had in mind, Saeros had already retrieved a steel bar from one of the small utility rooms and with the help of the others, threaded it through the handles of the door, effectively locking the Orcs inside. With this accomplished, they then turned their attention back to the remaining enemy soldiers.

A single Thurin Tirith engaged in combat was an amazing sight, but to see three was something not too many beings had ever had the chance to observe. Saeros was showing those he fought exactly what a sword master could do with a sword as his weapon moved in one continuous and fluid motion, and whether he fought with one hand or two his sword was still deadly and accurate. Súrion had again gone to his long knives, favoring them in close combat situations for they were shorter than a normal sword and so were not limited by the confined area they were being used in. The elvish steel, sharpened to a deadly edge, cut through the thin leather armor of the Orcs with the same deadly ease that it sliced through flesh and bone.

An Orc had tripped over a dead body on the floor and had literally fallen on Bansil's sword, wrenching it from the Guard's hand. The Avari Guard wasted no time trying to retrieve the weapon, and instead drew two long and ugly looking daggers from his belt. He worked the mob in front of him with the daggers with deadly accuracy, reversing the blades whenever the need arose and killing any enemy with lethal ease. The philosophy behind fighting with daggers was that the one cutting edge of the weapon gave the hand and arm a more lethal edge and hence, greater power. In effect, and when done correctly, the angle of both daggers presented the same fighting surface, as would have two long knives. And Bansil did love his daggers – as many of the Orcs found out just before they died.

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An incident happened on the third level that could have resulted in the first casualty of the battle but effortless teamwork prevented the tragedy as one of the Avari Guards, a cagey old veteran, named Duilin, slipped on the blood-slicked floor and went down beneath a swarm of Orcs. So many had fallen on him that it had actually saved his life, for none of the soldiers could move their arms to use a weapon.

Not hesitating for a moment, Semoro and the second Avari Lieutenant, Eglamar, sheathed their swords and after drawing their daggers, began to slit the throats of each Orc they pulled off the Guard. Finally, Duilin was uncovered. Eglamar bowed.

"I apologize for being late, my ancient brother." He extended his hand. "Now, are you going to stay where you are or would you like to regain your feet and join us? Hm?"

Semoro laughed as the downed Guard regained his feet. The two "rescuers" sheathed their daggers then after once more drawing their swords, waded back into the mob.

TBC

NOTE: Many years ago, I met a man whose martial arts master, Tiger Kim, could take six steps on the wall before he had to once more go to the floor. It was this skill that inspired a similar feat executed by the Silvan Guard, Súrion.