A/N: Yes, a longer hiatus than I'd like it to have been. But, I'm nearly finished with my final presentation for my degree and I decided to take a small break from it to get this chapter out. I'm working furiously to get this story finished but please be patient with me. Real life isn't so easy right now and it's hard to get a moment to sit and write.
Anyway, enough blathering. I hope you enjoy the story. I've appreciate all of your comments and feedback and hope you stick with me. The story's gearing up for some drastic events in the near future.
"Mist and shadow.
Cloud and shade.
All shall fade
All shall fade."-J.R.R. Tolkien
Chapter 29:
The room was too dark for her to see and she tasted the horrid metallic residue of the blood on her lips, mingling with the dust the coated the air.
Not that it would have mattered if she could see, she supposed, for the smell that hung like a thick blanket, was enough to churn Lyla's stomach. That and the knot she could feel forming on the back of her head where the foul creature with the club had conked her tender flesh didn't help things. Nor did it quell the biting cold of the stone beneath her as she laid, bound, in the dank and dampness of the room, listening to the numerous trickles of water as they struck against rock and splashed against her face.
Of course, the blow had not been rendered forcefully enough to send her reeling into unconsciousness, mind you, but hard enough to send stars before her eyes and a headache forming at the base of her skull.
And she hated headaches.
This whole business with her adversaries focusing on hitting her on the head was becoming rather tiresome and infuriating by Lyla's estimation.
She grunted lowly and blinked a few times to clear her senses as best she could and tried to ignore the way the enemies chortled in the distant darkness—more than likely down a long hallway she supposed. Though whether their sneering laughter was at her expense, she was not sure.
She hoped not. That wouldn't assist in her ability to escape.
Perhaps they were assured that she wouldn't be alert or conscious yet? She'd certainly made a spectacle of making sure that she played the part of the unconscious victim, slowing her breathing (though her heart pounded heavily in her ears), and willing her stiff muscles to loosen, once the snarling creature had lobbed his club at her. All of this making her appear much more the victim of their clubs rather than the stubborn and annoyed hobbit she really was.
And she'd certainly given a good fight trying to escape from the orcs before they'd managed to lasso her back into their hold.
She'd cast aside her fear of the giant spider and skittered into the cave, that was surrounded by webbing, weaving between large rock pillars, dodging the pincer grasp of the spider as well as trying to avoid the chortling of the orcs as they jeered at her and grunted in annoyance at her evasiveness.
She'd run into Gollum too, who seemed docile enough for the moment to willingly follow her command to run and remain quiet.
But the gangly creature had not been fast enough to thwart Lyla's shove as he'd attempted to throw the hobbit towards the spider's grip.
Instead of her getting stung, however, it had been him. Guiltily, Lyla had watched with horror, as Gollum's already pale face paled even more and his large blue eyes widened in anguish, a low groan escaping his lips as white foam began to seep from his nostrils and mouth.
The creature's movements stilled, his fingers twitching, legs giving out on him as Lyla stepped backwards, watching the way the spider slowly stepped confidently forward.
The hobbit's ears had perked at the sound of orcs bearing down on them. Dread filled her at the reality that if they caught her then the ring would be lost. If they realized she had the One Ring, there'd be no saving her friends and Middle Earth. All would be for naught.
Lyla had watched, frozen, as a long, hairy leg reached forward, poking and prodding Gollum's prone form.
"Careful now!" She recalled the orcs speaking, their guttural tongue had made her cringe. "This is Sherlob's lair. If she catches you, she'll pince you good. Fresh meat for her fat belly!"
She remembered hearing Gollum's low groan, growing fainter, and she recalled seeing the growing torchlight that was beginning to infiltrate the cave.
And that was how Lyla found herself having to make a decision. A rather unpleasant and complicated decision that she was certain would haunt her for the rest of her existence.
It went against everything she believed in.
She couldn't go forward and she couldn't go back. Either she'd have been struck by the spider Shelob or she'd be caught by the orcs.
What was the lesser of two evils?
Lyla shook her head to dispel the memory. Clearly, she'd made her decision and here she sat, sequestered and shackled in the darkness, arms pulled tightly above her head, bound by thick chains and shackles, the filthy voices of the orcs making her skin crawl.
She couldn't go back, couldn't change anything. She'd made her decision, made her plan in the moments before the orcs descended upon her and she hoped that it would be good enough to keep the darkness at bay, to prevent the Sauron from succeeding.
Lyla grit her teeth in annoyance and tried to force the tears of frustration back. It would not do to cry. Not now. It was a sign of weakness that would, certainly, be used against her.
Aule help her she was not going to give into their brute force. She wasn't going to let them best her. She had work to do.
She just hoped that her plan wouldn't fall apart at the seams. It had certainly been a risky move on her part, but there was no going back now, no matter how much her heart felt lighter and her senses felt more at ease than they had in many months.
But she couldn't give it up, she couldn't forsake this whole mission now. There was too much at stake, and too much she'd already risked to get here.
She would not let those she loved to have died in vain. She would not let those who sacrificed for her to have it all been for naught.
She would find Gollum again.
She WOULD get the ring back again.
But for now?
Lyla twisted her wrists slowly, feeling the cool, biting grip of the metal clamps that held her bound and the way her shoulders stung with each movement she made. The one that had been dislocated gave a particular jolt of pain that shot down her arm, making her fingers tingle with numbness.
It mattered not, though. The pain would only last a short while. Or, at least that's what she tried to convince herself of.
No, it did not matter.
What did matter was that she needed to figure out a way out of here. She didn't know how long she had before the venom wore off and Gollum became aware that…
No.
She mustn't focus on that.
She had to act on the moment here and now.
She had to trust that things would work out. Even though her joints were aching and her resolve faltered here in the dark, lonesome and looming enemy territory.
Oh Aule, she needed things to work out.
Slowly she uncurled her fingers from the tight fist she'd been holding and waited for the swelling to subside in her wrists, hoping that it would be enough.
The first moment with the spider had been a mistake.
He'd been caught unaware, nearly pierced by the largest pincer he'd ever encountered (and he could say that he'd encountered some before thanks to his adventures in Mirkwood!). His mattock had been the only thing to save him.
Though it hadn't been for long, just long enough for him to skitter backwards, aware from the drapings of webs and the large alcove.
Though he'd lost his hold of Sting in the process.
But Bofur wasn't stupid. He knew when he was bested and this creature was far more than he could handle at the moment.
So, he'd made the decision to retreat, back over the ledge and away from the spider until he could form a plan.
He hoped the creature wouldn't follow him. And when he spied a large bundle of webbing encasing a twitching creature, he banked his success on the spider's distraction with her most recent capture.
Thankfully, by some divine providence, he'd been right in his assumptions.
He waited until it was dark and he was certain that there was no one there to come after him, before he ventured up and over the ledge again, and towards the larger alcove to his right.
He knew that the sword had to be there. He just had to be wary.
Peering closely about him, Bofur gazed towards the ramble of rocks that littered the alcove's entrance, noting how the gossamer webbing glistened against the dark backdrop, and he searched eagerly for the small, familiar bag that he hoped would be there.
If Lyla had lost the vial from Galadriel in the dirt, he could assume that she might have also parted with her other belonging.
It took a bit of work, but, yes the small, green satchel was there, the golden insignia of elvish design still blazing brightly. Hastily peering around, Bofur crouched down, ignoring the way his muscles protested the movement, and hastily tore open the bag, sifting through the meager supply of food and the tattered cloak that filled the bag's space, and reaching for something more, something smaller and more delicate.
Ah ha! There it was.
Gently, the dwarf pulled the long, thin string of rope, grateful that he'd thought ahead to put it in Lyla's pack.
It would certainly come in handy.
Now, where was that…
Bofur narrowed his eyes critically, scanning the rocky debris, keeping his ears pricked for the slightest disturbance in the air around him, as he searched for the small letter opener that he hoped was still hidden amongst the rocks.
Thankfully, it too was still there, though it appeared that the spider had moved it about.
He sent a silent note of appreciation towards the hobbit's foresight to hide her pack from the small rabble of orcs that had taken…
His blood boiled again at the thought of the hobbit who only had moments to stash her belongings before the orcs descended and assaulted the weary and wary hobbit.
Had they struck her?
Hurt her?
He imagined the orcs as they snarled and spit at her, laughing about how they'd finally caught the elusive disturber that had the location of the weapon that would ensure their victory.
The thoughts enraged him and he swore to spill their blood when he got the chance. His fingers twitched in anticipation of that retribution.
Bofur knew, despite the boiling rage he felt, that it would not do well to assault the orcs yet. Knowing the hobbit as he did, he knew that she would not have left the…she would not have allowed them to take the ring.
Or so he hoped. He knew that it was starting to pull at her resolve, starting to tear her apart from the inside out. But, he still hoped that she was able to part with it, in order to save herself from losing the object that decided the fate of so many.
And he knew that they would not…would not kill Lyla until they found the ring. She was too valuable to them. They would not risk never finding the ring of power simply to satiate their bloodlust and bitterness towards the most unlikely creature imaginable to best them:
A hobbit.
Until he could get to her, Bofur decided, he needed to do something to ensure that her mission would be carried out.
He needed to do something for her.
That meant finding the ring and then rescuing his friend.
But first…
He kicked over the over a few stones that seemed out of place…
And smiled when the sheen of silver caught his eye.
Ah yes, there it was. Clever girl.
"Good goin' lass," he muttered, grasping the hilt and bringing the weapon closer to his person.
That was one step closer to solving this mess of a problem. Now, to figure out where she could have stashed that…
"p-p-preciou-" there was the faintest of familiar muttering before a long, low screech filled the air, making Bofur stiffen in horror.
That had been Gollum's screech of pain.
Bofur swallowed back the thick residue in his mouth and scanned the area warily. If Gollum had been attacked.
The dwarf's eyes widened in realization at the thought that perhaps…
She wouldn't have.
The dwarf sighed again at the idea that that gaffy hobbit most certainly could have done what he was dreading she had done.
But, there was one way to find out.
And he knew this was to be an unpleasant venture.
With still another grumble to discontent, the dwarf hesitantly reached into his pocket and withdrew the vial of liquid.
As he ran a gloved hand across the supple and delicate glass, he couldn't shake the trepidation that ate at him and the way the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
Words sprang to his lips.
"aiya Eärendil elenion ancalima!"
These words were decidedly not dwarvish and they felt rough and foreign on his tongue. He didn't know why they'd erupted from his lips.
But the reaction of the phial was enough to quell any fear he felt towards the strange language he'd been speaking, for the small star-glass began to shine brightly, as if the very rays of moonbeams or stars were alight within Bofur's hand.
It was mesmerizing and comforting.
And it alerted him to the presence of the very large spider that was lurking in the darkened corner of the alcove nearby, waiting and watching him.
Bofur had enough time to wrap his fingers tightly around the hilt of Lyla's sword before the spider charged towards him.
The dwarf could see the slow dribble of pus oozing from a few of the creature's legs as he drew forth sting and brandished still another jab at the creature's furry and spindly appendages.
The spider hissed in discontent, moving its jowls back and forth, spitting a horrid green liquid towards the dwarf, trying to reach out to grasp onto anything of Bofur's before being struck by Lyla's Sting. He managed to land a sound strike against the spider, forcing the creature back a great distance, flitting over the rocky debris and slashing a few of the larger webs that were strung along the corners of the alcove's entrance.
The light in Bofur's hand continued to blaze brightly as he stepped forward, towards the spider, noting the way the shadows cast dark thoughts to his mind.
He heard the low groan of Gollum once again fill the darkness.
Swallowing back his anger once more, the dwarf continued forward, into the cave, brandishing his sword whenever the spider decided to try to lunge at him. Bofur would thrust the light forward and hack at anything that dared to try and strike him. So far, he'd managed a few well placed blows to the creature's front legs. But, he knew that going forward would be tricky. If he were to attempt to reach Gollum (and he still seriously considered quashing the notion immediately) he had to be careful not to allow the spider to succeed in launching an assault against him. If she got her pincers on him, he'd lose.
Of that he was certain.
Despite his hesitation to want to find Gollum, something niggled at him to continue to do so. It was all too convenient that Gollum remained here when Lyla did not, that he was vulnerable and at the mercy of the largest spider Bofur had ever seen.
He had to know, even if just for the peace of mind.
Lyla had to slow her breathing, ease the panic she felt and will herself not to strain against the harsh, biting metal that encased her wrists. The irons bit tightly, chaffing and pinching her skin.
She had to be careful. Not just because of the potential to hurt herself, though.
More importantly, if she made too much noise or if she strained too hard then it would all be for naught. She'd been caught for sure.
Ever so gently, she twisted her wrist about, slowly tugging the appendage downward, towards her torso, stiffening as the metal clinked slightly against the wall above her, the low thrum of metal against rock stinging her ears and making her heart pound. Her wrists didn't move much, but the noise seemed deafening and the hobbit froze in terror at the prospect of the orcs returning to her.
However, despite straining her ears to listen, she couldn't detect any indication that orcs didn't seem fazed by her attempts at freedom. In fact, it didn't appear as though they heard her at all, which was a fortunate and encouraging relief.
She tried again, gently shimmying her wrist, hoping the swelling from her clenched fists had gone down enough to allow her to slip her hands right down and free her.
The task wasn't quite so simple as all that. She did, in fact, manage to get her wrists to move ever so slightly, as she shifted her body away from the stone wall at her back, nearly managed to free herself to the base of her thumb. However, that is where her hand widened too much to allow her to slip all the way through. And for all the tugging she was doing, the only thing she was managing to accomplish were new welts along her skin, angry and raw and stinging as the tainted air hit them.
'This will never do' she thought dourly, easing her attempts in order to give her appendages some rest.
She needed something to help her hands slip through the irons, something that would allow her to simply slide right out of her confinement and escape.
But there was nothing really. Nothing would here could possibly—
A rather large droplet of water worked its way down Lyla's back, slipping beneath her tunic and trickling down her spine in a chilling manner. Goose-flesh prickled her arms and the hobbit shuddered, even as she turned her head upwards, trying to pinpoint just where the water was coming from. She'd never noticed it before and assumed that all her maneuvering had placed her beneath a rather offensive trickle of foul liquid.
Another droplet splattered across her nose, stinging her eyes. She snorted lowly, nearly gagging as the putrid water stung her tongue. Lyla shuffled her body away from the offending trickle of liquid.
Well at least her head away.
Perhaps if she could at least get her hands and wrists wet enough…and the water—er—liquid (she didn't want to think about what it COULD be)—was cold enough, it might just reduce the swelling she felt.
It might just allow her to remove the shackles and get free.
A low clattering and a long series of laughs filled the room, making Lyla still in panic.
"Oi, hold yer 'orses," she heard the dark guttural grunts of an orc, followed by rather heavy footsteps, "I've just gotsta check on that prisoner and then we'll sort tha thing out!"
Immediately Lyla stilled as a small trickle of torchlight began to grow, the footsteps she heard growing louder, the heavy breathing of the orc growing even as his shadow lengthened across the wall.
Lyla slammed her eyes shut, slackening her position, hoping that her acting was good enough to convince the orc of her unconscious state.
Perhaps it would not come too close to her to actually make sure—
The kick to her side, though, suggested otherwise.
The orc laughed as Lyla groaned and opened her eyes. She noted the way the brute glowered and sneered at her, his beady yellow eyes narrowed calculatingly, tawny skin oozing foully as he gazed down at her.
"No lounging about now, little piglet," He snorted "This is not meant to be a pleasure for you. You've got questions ta answer and my master won't be too keen on you gettin' comfortable anytime soon."
The low cackle sent spittle flying, landing on Lyla's cheek as the orc stepped back again, taking the precious torchlight with him.
"Just waitin' till dawn we are, then to the tower you go." He seemed almost gleeful.
Lyla felt a rock of dread settle in her belly as she watched the light grow dimmer, fainter, the laughter growing softer as the orc retreated once again.
Lyla unclenched her fists, ignoring the way her side ached and focused on how the water trickled across her palm, around the cold iron and along her wrists.
"Back you filth!" Bofur snarled, "You get back."
The dwarf thrust the vial forward again and again, forcing the great spider back into the cave, back through the webbing, creating a walkway for him to follow as he searched.
This was all madness, he decided.
But, perhaps it would give him something valuable.
The spider tried to pince at him again and Bofur brandished the cool steel of Sting's pointed tip, striking the furred leg, producing a rather large gash that elicited a low hiss from the spider.
Clearly it was offended with Bofur's attacks.
Not that the dwarf minded. Instead, he thrust forward the small vial of light again, casting a pale, moonlit glow into the darkness.
Shadows floated across the walls, the gossamer webbing lending an air of dread to the remote cave.
The dwarf noted the presence of bones, dozens of bones, of various size and proportions, strewn across the floor, some still caught in old webbing that hung low from the ceiling.
But, nowhere could he see any sign or semblance of the blasted brute that had gotten them all into this mess in the first place.
Bofur struck another blow towards the spider's advances, this time managing to nick off a bit more of the creature's leg, sending the giant beast tilting and trying to right itself, even as it continued to pince towards him, attempting to gain a hold of the miner's shoulders and arms.
The dwarf rocked backwards, as the spider came too close for his liking, nearly managing to jab one of his legs into Bofur's torso.
It smarted.
But, more than anything, it sent Bofur backwards, his hands moving back to steady himself, meeting with the sticky webbing that surrounded the walls as the spider took a chance to move forward to strike another blow.
The dwarf wasn't willing to give up so easily, but pushed the light-filled vial in front of him, the sharp blade of Sting jabbing forward as well.
The spider shrieked lightly before retreating again, stumbling over a few of the larger rocks strewn about the floor.
And something else…
Something that made Bofur squint his eyes in curiosity and confusion before widening in realization.
Of course.
Gritting his teeth in anger, Bofur took another step forward, snarling towards the giant spider.
"Here ya great brute," He ground out, raising the vial higher, thrusting it towards the spider's large, piercing eyes, "Here, take it if ya think yer good enough. But, mind you, I'll slit yer belly if you do step closer."
He placed another large booted foot forward, tightening his grip on Sting as he did so. The vial felt warm in his hands and glowed brightly through his fingers and reflecting off the large, black eyes that gazed back at him.
This was a foolish task.
Very foolish.
Mahal help him. He was as delusional as the hobbit for thinking this would work.
It was no easy feat, defeating a spider.
Especially when that spider was five times larger than you.
Yet here he stood, gripping Sting quite tightly, surrounded by the bits of webbing that still clung to the walls, despite the shuffling of bodies that had caused many of them to be torn down.
He'd effectively driven the large brute back.
At least long enough to complete his task.
He'd hacked at the creature's legs, severing a few before the spider had spit at him. Then he'd made an attempt to gouge out a few of the beady eyes that darted around, following his every move.
That had earned him a swift jab in the belly, with the certainty of a bruise to follow. BUT, it had also afforded him a rather effective hit towards the spider's own belly, which was the clinching blow that made the creature retreat further into the cave and down a narrow passage, away from the offensive dwarf, his lighted vial, and his very sharp little letter opener.
By the end of it all, Bofur was panting, his fingers were shaking and twitching from the adrenaline, and he felt a deep wellspring of nausea coil tightly in his belly as he lifted the small trinket upwards, examining the sheen of gold as it glittered temptingly in the pale light.
Briefly, he cast a look back towards Gollum, who laid still, unmoving, no limbs twitching or shaking. At first Bofur had thought him to be dead as he laide there, eyes wide and unblinking, gazing unseeing towards the ceiling of the cave, hands still extended and fingers wrapped tightly into a fist.
Though that fist no longer contained its prize.
Not that it was a prize that Bofur was particularly fond of handling.
He couldn't ignore the way he felt the dread settle on him. Nor could he ignore the whispering hum of a voices that buzzed in his ears as he gazed at the ring.
The one ring.
It was in his possession now.
'You could take it for you own you know. Do you see how easy it was to take it from the worm, hmm? He doesn't deserve it. You've shown the power and dominance. Don't you think you deserve it?'
The dwarf hastily shook his head and pocketed the offensive bartering chip, careful to button the flap of his breast pocket to prevent the ring from falling out.
Best not take chances.
Now he understood why Lyla had been so disconcerted by the thing, so affected and weary. He already felt worn by handling the trinket.
He couldn't fathom having carried it all the way from Erebor…
All the way from MIRKWOOD even!
Anger roiled newly hot in his belly.
"Foolish lass," He muttered darkly, angered at her stupidity in carrying such a clearly evil item with her for so long.
Did she not care?
Did she not think of how it would affect her?
With a deep frown, Bofur looked once more upon Gollum, watching the way the creature's finger's began to move, a few twitching every now and then, though the creature's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling above it.
Part of Bofur wanted to finish the job the spider had started.
Anger at Gollum's betrayal burned hotly and, as was customary with dwarrow culture, Bofur wanted revenge.
He deserved revenge.
Lyla deserved revenge.
All their problems centered on this pathetic little creature. All the pain they'd felt was because of that…that foul and loathsome being before him.
It would be so easy to end it all.
Bofur tightened the grip on Sting and stepped closer to Gollums prone form.
It would be so easy.
Lyla supposed that it must be dawn soon for the sounds down the hall or corridor…or whatever it was…were growing louder, the footfalls echoing more frequently, and the voices growing more agitated and raucous than they had been.
She didn't know how long she'd been there, sitting in the dark, but the hobbit was keenly aware of the way her back felt still and her muscles ached in protest to being subjected to this position for as long as she had been.
The hobbit could feel the way her ankle throbbed from where she'd been jerked and how the raw flesh on her wrists stung from the biting cold of the metal.
By now, at least, she'd become accustomed to the putrid smell that surrounded her.
Carefully and patiently, Lyla had remained as still as possible, loosening her grip, unclenching her fists and allowing the water to drip on the metal that held her bound.
Now was the time to see if it had paid off.
Carefully and warily, the hobbit pulled her right wrist downward, trying to minimize the way the metal links swayed with her movements.
There was some resistance, the sharp metal biting against her already raw skin. The combination of the movement she was making, along with the frigid liquid falling on her flesh, stung the open breaks in her skin.
But the hobbit was determined. So, Lyla continued to pull her wrist downward, noting the way she'd reached the widest portion of her hand, just by her thumb. There was even more resistance here and Lyla squeezed her eyes shut briefly, letting out a long breath as she realized what she had to do.
She stilled her movements for a moment and listened, waiting for the moment when—
There it was.
With the orcs getting even louder, Lyla yanked down hard, pulling her wrist with enough force that her thumb contorted to an awkward angle, shooting sharp pains through her wrist and up her arm.
But, it moved in such a way that it broke her free from the chain's grip.
The hobbit bit back a yell of pain, cradling her arm tightly to her side as she listened, teeth clenched, for the orcs' movements and the moment when she could do the same to her other wrist.
Tears pricked her eyes, but Lyla kept her teeth firmly clenched shut, refusing to let any noise escape her lips, as she pressed herself against the rock wall. She listened, ears perked for the slightest change in movement or the growth of noise from the orcs.
It must be close to dawn.
Lyla's heart beat rapidly against her chest and she tried to peer into the darkness, looking for any sight or semblance of a route to take without attracting attention. Hesitantly, she took a step forward, anxiety warring with sensibility.
This was a mistake.
'Get a grip, Lyla.' She chastised herself. 'Are you a Baggins or a Bracegirdle?'
The hobbit took another step forward.
And heard a shriek before she was knocked off her feet.
The hobbit grasped onto the tunic of the orc that had rammed into her, pulling the brute down with her and earning a few clawing slaps for her effort, as the torch he'd been carrying snuffed out from the collision with the damp floor.
But it didn't matter the way the creature tried to claw at her, trying to strike her with its long, thin and mottled arms.
Lyla wasn't too keen to deal with the orc's snarling and the spittle that landed on her face as it breathed its putrid breath into her, yellow eyes nearly glowing in the dark as it scowled at her.
No, it didn't matter that he'd reached towards the hobbit, tugging at her hair, trying to force her to cry out, to pull away and release her hold on him.
But, it didn't matter.
For Lyla Baggins wasn't going to let go. And she certainly wasn't going to ward off his slaps and angry movements with her own defensive strategies.
Instead, the hobbit reached down, towards the orc's hilt.
And pulled out the small, jagged knife he'd had on his person, sinking the blade deep into the creature's belly.
