Thank you to the very wonderful Anarithilien who always puts me right:)

Apologies for the long delay. Work insane.

Chapter 36: Yôzâira

There was a great clamour and the sound of feet running up the stone steps towards Bearos' cell. He felt the approach like wildfire, a crimson burning and his mouth stretched into a horrible grimacing smile. His mouth was wet with the blood of the guard he had lured too close, it soaked his throat and chest and hands. He licked them clean, smacking his lips and savouring the iron-copper taste.

The moment the door was flung open, he let the guard drop to the floor, where he wriggled weakly, mewling like a kitten and clutching at his throat where the blood pumped copiously from that great pulsing carotid, the artery that Bearos had ripped open.

'Ahhhhhhh,' Bearos gave the longest sigh as Ravéyön approached. Khamûl reached out with long fingers of lust and desire. 'At last.' Bearos, bowed low, sank in his chains to his knees.

Elrohir Ravéyön was here.

At last.

'Lord!' he gasped, his eyes fixed upon the incandescent and glorious figure. 'Lord! Ravéyön! Master.' A swirl of crimson was about the lord, and he was tall, strong. His eyes were aflame and Bearos almost swooned with desire. Power surged across the cell, thrummed in the air.

0o0o

Elrohir stared aghast at the Man struggling weakly, hands clutched to his throat, and immediately sank to his knees, pressing down on the jugular as hard as he could, though he knew there was no point. Blood pumped inexorably over his fingers and flooded the stone floor. Behind him, he heard Gimli cry out and then the Dwarf was beside him, helping. Elrohir grabbed Gimli's hand and showed him where to apply pressure so he could try and mend the torn and ripped trachea but the Man was already going into shock and his eyes were wild and staring. There was nothing really that Elrohir could do.

But Gimli had leaned down and was holding the Man gently. 'I will find your loved ones,' Gimli said. 'I will tell them. I will make sure they are safe and cared for. I swear this on the Mazarkût.' He nodded in salutation and the Man blinked. If he heard or understood, Elrohir could not tell. Gimli's fingers moved in a little patter over the Man's heart as it spasmed and stuttered and finally, stopped. The Man's eyes were fixed upon the Dwarf's as they glazed in death.

There was a shocking ululation. Rattling chains and shrieking.

Elrohir leapt to his feet, turning towards the sound.

Only now did he see the thing that was shackled, chained to the wall and it strained and gibbered like some maddened half-beast, half-Man. At first Elrohir recoiled in horror, for blood soaked the creature's mouth and chin and chest and he knew it was the blood of the dead guard.

Then he realised that this thing was Bearos. And it had Legolas.

Aghast, he looked down at the creature; Gimli had described Bearos as a ghoul and indeed whatever Bearos now was, he was no longer a Man. It had sunk onto its knees, straining forwards in its chains and its horrible bloody face, elongated and white, was turned up towards Elrohir and its eyes were red-rimmed and bulged from the sockets.

'Yesyesyesyes!' It gibbered and sniggered horribly.

Blood from the dead guard dripped from Elrohir's hands onto his boots and he was suddenly choked with fear for Legolas. He strode towards Bearos. 'Where is Legolas? What have you done with him?'

Bearos' jaw dropped and his teeth clacked but he did not speak. Instead, he slowly, pleasurably licked the blood from his lips and sniggered loudly, showing long yellow teeth. Elrohir clenched his fist but a hand lay on his arm and he turned angrily.

'He will not speak.' It was Gandalf. He shook his head regretfully. 'I have tried.'

'Let's just kill it,' Gimli stood looking down at the dead Man at his feet. He had cast his cloak over the guard's face. 'I do not believe it knows anything about Legolas,' he added defiantly. 'It is not strong enough or clever enough to have captured an Elf.' But Elrohir knew he only sought to goad Bearos into speaking. The ghoul just clacked its teeth and swung on its shackles as if it felt no pain.

Elrohir suddenly thought that perhaps they would never make Bearos speak. Perhaps Legolas was already dead. In despair he drew Aícanaro. The blade sprang from its sheath and Bearos twisted in his chains and spat. "So you know Aícanaro,' Elrohir said and he pressed the dark blade against Bearos' neck. The ghoul writhed and thrashed as if in agony but Gandalf leapt in and pulled Elrohir's arm away.

'Put down that sword, Elrohir Elrondion! You will do no murder even if this creature deserves it seven times over!'

'I am not a fool!' Elrohir shouted angrily. He glared at the Wizard furiously. 'But you could not get him to speak. I will not be so delicate.'

'If you kill me,' Bearos grinned maliciously, 'you will never know where he is.'

Elrohir stared in hatred. 'So you do have him.' He leaned down over the ghoul in spite of his horror for it was Legolas' sake he did this, and hissed at Bearos, 'You will tell me where he is or your torment will be unimaginable.'

Bearos sneered. 'You wish to see where he is? Then come close. Let me touch you and I can show you.'

Elrohir stared at the creature for a moment and Gimli cried out a warning. Gandalf too, stepped between them but Elrohir pushed the Wizard back and pulled Bearos up onto his feet. He brought his face close to the ghoul and the creature stretched out its long fingered, gnarled hands as far as it could and touched Elrohir's arm.

Instantly he was somewhere else – somewhere dark, close, suffocating.

He saw Bearos pounding through the darkness, clambering over sarcophagi and knew he was in a crypt. He could feel how Bearos had smelled, sniffed and tracked someone in the Dark, how he had felt, saw, the slightest shift in the darkness. There. Crouching by a tomb. Silent.

A figure. Hunched. Hiding. A glimmer.

Elrohir knew it was Legolas but he could do nothing. It had happened. It was a moment past.

Bearos had stilled. He had watched. Amused. The Elf's heart had been hammering in his chest. Pumping blood. Pulse racing. Bearos licked his lips.

Rose silently upon his haunches. Leapt.

He crashed down onto the Elf before he even looked up. The force of his leap rolled them both over and over, crashing together. The Elf fought hard and Bearos laughed maniacally, aware that he was dribbling and gibbering, enjoying the feel of the strength pinned that he pinned beneath him. The Elf struggled uselessly but Bearos was so strong! He flexed his muscles and grinned. 'Got you….'He let the syllable die away into the dark.

'Time to feed.'

He grabbed the Elf's long hair and dragged him by his hair at first but the Elf still fought and kicked, so Bearos smashed his fists into him and crushed him. Then he flipped the Elf onto his belly like a fish and bent one of his arms up behind him almost to cracking. It was a good thing Bearos had fed upon the Elf two days ago, otherwise he might not have been strong enough to subdue the Elf so completely. Even weakened, the Elf struggled and kicked and bit, and Bearos eventually slammed his face into the wall so he was completely stunned and then it was easier.

Elrohir fell back in horror for a moment and then he lunged forwards again and seized Bearos by the throat, shaking him until his teeth rattled.

'Tell me where he is or so help me, I shall make your death a long and painful agony, you will scream for death long before I give it to you!'

'I will take you,' whispered Bearos hoarsely. 'I will show you where he is but first you must accept my fealty.'

Elrohir dropped him like he had been bitten. Gandalf shoved him out of the way again. 'There is some trickery in this, Elrondion. Do not do this.'

Bearos hissed and snarled at him, spat at him in fury. 'Then let him die! Alone in the dark. In unimaginable torment.' He lifted his lips back in a sneer. 'I do not care. It pleasures me to see you in such turmoil.' He gyrated his hips obscenely, pressing against what was left of his rags so they could see he was erect and lustful. His jaw clacked and gibbered and even Gandalf shifted back for it was horrible.

'It is the only way you will find him!' Bearos shouted gleefully, pulling on his chains and throwing himself destructively against them so his wrists were raw and bloody. 'The only way you will get to him in time. He will be dead in hours, not days!'

Elrohir narrowed his eyes and scowled resentfully at Gandalf.

'Your delay means his death,' Bearos hissed softly, mad and bulging eyes fixed upon Elrohir. The ghoul rattled his chains. 'Let me show you how I can serve. I will pledge myself to you! Accept it and I will swear fealty to you. I will give you a sign of my bondage to you.' He lowered his voice craftily and peered up at Elrohir with his wicked, bright eyes. 'I will take you to him. But only you. You alone and no one can follow.'

'Elrohir, listen to Gandalf,' warned Gimli. 'There is foul purpose in this beast. It seeks to take you into the Hallows on your own. It is treacherous and cruel.'

Elrohir stared at the Dwarf and then said bitterly, 'What choice do I have?' He shook off Gandalf's hand and glared at Gimli.

For a moment, the Dwarf's earth brown eyes held Elrohir's fearlessly. And then then he nodded briefly. 'None,' he said firmly. 'Then do it.' Gimli kept his gaze and would not look away. 'For Legolas' sake. But if you do not return, I swear that I will find you. I will not let you fall.'

Gratefully, Elrohir nodded briefly and then he turned furiously back to Bearos. 'Swear then. Swear upon your black and darkened soul that you will serve me.'

Bearos gibbered and capered, so his shackles rattled and clattered. 'I will swear ,' he shouted gleefully. 'I will swear upon the Everlasting Dark. I swear to serve you, master, lord.' His voice darkened and it seemed something else was in the high stone chamber then, something dark and secret. 'I swear by the Darkness that I will merge with your very soul so I cannot deceive you, cannot trick you and will never escape you. Ravéyön.'

Elrohir stumbled back. Ravéyön.

He had been called that before. By the Nazgûl.

Bearos chittered excitedly. 'Yesyesyesyesyes. Now we have you!'

His mad, bulging eyes were fixed upon Elrohir's. He knew. Bearos was the creature of the Nazgûl. But he was the only way to find Legolas. Elrohir did in truth, have no choice.

'Release him,' he called back over his shoulder to the guards clustered around their dead companion.

There was a stunned silence followed by a sudden loud protest from the guards, Gimli's voice bellowing over them adding to the din. But Elrohir raised his voice angrily. 'I said, release him! Do it. Now! Or do you wish us to never find Legolas?'

It was Gimli who bullied the guards into yielding their keys and fitting them to the heavy shackles. He glared at Bearos as if he might incinerate him with a mere look and Bearos clacked his teeth and hissed.

At last the shackles were removed and Bearos collapsed to the floor gasping, giggling, rubbing his raw and bloody wrists. He rolled about clacking his teeth and laughing maniacally so the guards skittered back out of his way, horrified by the prospect of Bearos even touching them. Bearos rolled and lifted his hands up towards Elrohir as if in supplication. Eyes bulging and mad, he suddenly lunged for the one of the other Men. He gnashed at the Man's thigh, tearing through the cloth, skin, to the precious blood beneath. Shouting and outrage erupted from the guards. In the mayhem, hands dragged at Bearos, feet kicked at him, trying to dislodge him and he seized one foot and bit into it as hard as he could so there was a yelp of pain.

Elrohir waded in amongst them, grasping Bearos hard by the shoulder, he threw him off the guard and flung him back. Bearos' head banged against the wall and his long teeth rattled with the impact. Elrohir grabbed his collar and shook him.

'Liar! You are forsworn!' Spittle flew from Elrohir's mouth.

Bearos gasped in lustful delight at the violence and let his head fall back in ecstasy. 'You said nothing!' he panted. 'You gave me no orders, no instruction, no words!'

'Then I command you not to bite, not harm anyone.' Elrohir leaned over Bearos now furiously. 'You will show me where he is.'

Bearos licked his lips, and gazed up at Elrohir utterly bewitched, utterly aware. He reached up slowly and just pressed a long finger to Elrohir's hot skin, just stroke it quickly before Elrohir pulled away in disgust, just enough to release the power and sparks of energy that flew up like hot cinders from a bonfire.

Ravéyön.

A long sigh, relief, triumph, elation.

Elrohir felt Angmar then, as if he were standing next to him, and he knew he had no escape.

Come. Join us.

The Brethren were waiting. They had a gift for Ravéyön. One that would enslave him and buy their release from the Glass, from the Dark and back into the World.

A shimmering trail seemed to resolve before Elrohir and the drifts of mist that had lingered at the edges of the cell, in the tower coalesced and bound, reaching ahead of him, drawing him on.

'Come,' said Bearos. 'Your Yôzâira waits.'

Yôzaira. Again, that name. It was the Nazgul, and they awaited him.

Gandalf caught his arm. 'Elrohir, this is madness. Just give us a little more time to press him. Perhaps…'

'Perhaps he is already dead!' snapped Elrohir. 'Perhaps you have dallied until it is too late.'

Elrohir grasped Bearos' collar firmly and yanked him forwards. 'Come. Now.' He dragged Bearos out of the cell but in truth, Bearos scampered at his side, sometimes using a knuckle to propel himself in his lolloping gait.

Men scrambled out of his way as they left the cell. He heard Gandalf shouting something but he did not stop and Bearos sniggered and lolloped alongside.

Bearos gave Elrohir a wicked, hungry look that made him believe all of Gimli's cautions; Bearos simply meant to lure him into the dark and then kill him. Bearos lunged forwards. Everyone scattered out of his way but he lunged from the cell, dragging Elrohir after him. Bearos almost tumbled down the stone steps of the Tower, throwing himself down three four five stairs at a time, with no regard for the damage he was doing to this body.

They raced out into the evening. Twilight was falling. A few stars glinted above them already for there was no moon. They raced along the Rath Dínen and into the Hallows. Bearos fled, roaring in delight and sped up, his long feet pounded over the stones, his haunches gathered and bounded ahead. Elrohir panted in his effort to keep up for Bearos was inhumanly swift, and when Bearos leapt over walls and sped over the smooth paving stones, Elrohir followed.

Bearos threw open the great doors of the mausoleum and plunged into the dark. Elrohir did not hesitate but snatched a flickering torch from one of the sconces in the vestibule and though the flame guttered and flickered in the speed of their flight, it showed their shadows fleeing ahead of them through the silent darkness of the crypt.

'Stop!' Elrohir shouted, his breath coming hard and panting. 'I command you!'

Grimacing and furious, Bearos skidded to a halt and turned, reluctantly and like a cringing cur, sidled back towards Elrohir. His chest was heaving with breathlessness and he could see the torchlight, a crimson edge limning his outline.

But there was no sense of Legolas, no green-gold lingering Song, no scent of meadowgrass hay. Elrohir stopped; he did not believe that Legolas was here.

'He is not here. You are foresworn,' he said accusingly, his hand upon Aícanaro for he thought Bearos might now turn upon him.

Bearos' mad, bulging eyes were upon Elrohir and he grinned horribly. 'I have sworn to you, my lord!' He stumbled to his knees clumsily, like it was hard to make them move like a man now. 'I swore my fealty, my lord master,' Bearos said humbly, crouching at Elrohir's feet. 'If you do not believe me, then take this meagre token as a sign of my fealty.' Bearos lifted his hand and pulled something from his finger. It gleamed dully in the dimness. 'It is an heirloom of my House. I will show you where he is, I swear upon the Dark that will take me if I am foresworn. Accept my fealty, lord, and I will do your bidding.' He held the ring towards Elrohir, hardly daring to breathe.

Elrohir approached suspiciously and looked down at the ring where it gleamed dully in Bearos' hand. He glanced at Bearos astutely. 'The Dark has you already, Bearos, for all that you have done. You are no Man. You are a beast of the Dark and it will take you to itself when it has finished with you.'

The firelight of the torch gleamed over the ring where it lay in the clawed hand.

And then, slowly, at last Elrohir took the ring with his forefinger and thumb and looked at it.

Yeeessssss. At last. We have you.

But he did not put it on.

He stared at it, as if fascinated and curious, but he frowned too. Aícanaro stirred in its sheath and Elrohir's eyes shifted slightly downwards towards the dark blade.

0o0o0

Bearos crouched, his knuckles on the ground and his eyes bulging and fixed upon Elrohir. The ring gleamed softly, as if inconsequential, made itself small and insignificant. For a moment, Elrohir's frown deepened for he was suspicious and then abruptly, he palmed the Ring and shoved it into an inner pocket of his tunic.

'Get going, foul one. Take me to where Legolas is.'

Bearos sniggered uncontrollably and Elrohir stared at Bearos in disgust and contempt, but there was horror behind his eyes as if he comprehended something, a little of what had happened.

Yes, thought Bearos, that is how it starts. You do not know at first, that you have changed. And then the dreams start, and then Khamûl will make himself know and possess you utterly. Bearos knew as well, that this was to be his last act. He saw how long his face had become, and felt his jaw drop uncontrollably and yack as he tried to close it.

The Ring nestled against Elrohir's heart, beady red eyes glittering in the dark, silent, Still. Hiding its true nature. Pressed up against Elrohir's heated and radiant skin, Khamûl had Elrohir but did not yet possess him. Bearos felt the world shifting and changing around him as Khamûl left him for Elrohir. Pain lanced through him now that Khamûl no longer wrapped himself about Bearos, dulling the pain. His feet were agony, the bones stretched and ligament pulled beyond a human shape. He looked at his long hands, the ragged nails had dried blood beneath them. Something choked in his chest, like a scream trying to force its way out but Khamûl still had his Will bound like iron and he could not resist. Khamûl drove talons of his own into Bearos' spirit, dragged him, lashed at him and forced his painful feet to move, as it had Maltök until his grisly death. Bearos shuffled forwards, glancing over his shoulder at Ravéyön who followed slowly, hesitantly, as if he were no longer quite in control of his own body.

So they slid into the darkness of the Tombs, like a glove it closed over them swallowed them and Khamûl drove them faster and faster through the dark.

0o0o

Legolas felt the wet silk of the Glass press about him once again. it closed over his face and he thought he could not breathe. He knew the Brethren were excited; they reached for him with their bony, claw-like hands and the Rings they wore glowed with intensity in the darkness like cold eyes.

His thoughts were slow and cold, but he could hear them slurp and drink his blood once again and his body twitched and spasmed. This is the last, he realised. Their bloody mouths were on him, sucking blood through the membrane of the Glass that was so thin now that he feared they could indeed break through; and yes, they needed something more and he thought it would be connected with Elrohir.

Angmar showed him then.

Elrohir, magnificent and strong, hurrying through the dark city, his footsteps ringing on the stones, running along the top of the Rath Dínen towards the Nazgûl.

'No. No.' He heard his own voice as if it were a long long way away. Distant and weak.

'Yes, Yes. he will come for you, his Yôzâira. Khamûl is bringing him to us so that we may use him. He has always wanted you like this. And here, we give it to him…It is a pity you will only live to see that moment. For as he walks through the gate, we will tear your soul from your body and devour you. I fear it will hurt greatly.' Angmar's voice was so reasonable, so regretful.

Legolas' head hung down, he was so weary. He could see his body twitch with the loss of blood, and he was so cold. But he was still Thranduillion, he told himself quietly. I am still Legolas. And I will not allow them to use Elrohir. I will not allow them to break free.

A thin laugh told him that Angmar perceived all his thoughts.

'How do you think you will stop that? Do you think to fade before he gets here? Have you not yet tried? You are not quite weak enough, but a little longer and the boundaries between your living and the spirit world will be so thin that will slip away without recognizing what you do.

It showed him Elrohir, magnificent in his fury, dark Aícanaro in hand, striding through the dark passageways of the Tombs. He was close, so close that Legolas knew if he cried out Elrohir would come. He closed his mouth and tasted salt but he would not cry out.

You will die.

We will tear your soul apart and devour you.

Ravéyön will despair. He will despair and, in that despair, he will rip the last of this thinning barrier between this world of darkness and the living.

We will break through with dark Aícanaro

Aícanaro our nemesis.

Aícanaro. Our saviour.

We will return to the World of Men and the living.

We will rule again.

Your soul will leave as he walks through the gate, we will devour you at that moment and he will despair. He will strike out with Aícanaro which will cleave the Glass in two and give us the power we need to break through our prison and return to the World of Men.

Slowly, he thought what was said; Aícanaro would cleave the Glass. Elrohir's strange and sentient sword was the key and the Nazgul were banking that Elrohir would be so furious that he would break the Glass when he saw what had been done to Legolas.

No, he said quietly to himself. I will not allow it. He bit down on his cry, and all the stubborn pride of his House rose up in defiance of Legolas' fate, he gathered the green-gold threads of his fëa and wound them thickly about his own self, and then drew down the veil so his Song was suppressed.

There was a shriek like nails scraping down a board and he cringed at the sound. Fury came from within the Glass and the Nazgul rose up like bats, their thin black shrouds beating at him like trapped bats. He turned his head so weakly for his blood thudded feebly through his depleted veins, starved and thin.

He felt their savage bite again and the suffocating wet silk was over his face, his mouth and he knew then that he was about to die.

You think this changes anything! Already it is too late!

He

is

here!

The shrieking rose to an unendurable din and he knew that it did not matter than he had suppressed his Song, the Nazgul would create such a cacophony that Elrohir would hear it and know he was here. And anyway, Khamûl was loose in the world and he would bring Elrohir to this dreadful place.

It was then that he felt it; a pressure in the air that he had not felt before. Heavy, like a storm approached. And the stone slab shifted and moved, a grating cracked the air and orange torchlight fell into the cell, cast a demonic glow around the walls, gleaming in the Mirror.

He turned his head and half opened his eyes, hoping for just one last look at his beloved. Just one. He felt him drawing close and ruthlessly suffocated his own Song.

'Do not come. Go instead. Leave me,' he muttered, shoving away all sense of his Elrohir, setting up a wall against him.

And he felt them close about him, the yaffling, suckling on his skin, the sharp pain as they pierced him again and again as before. He stifled the cry, swallowed the pain and suddenly there was a blinding light and a soft implosion. He thought he had gone deaf and blind.

0o0o

Elrohir pursued Bearos through the high-roofed chambers of the Kings' tombs. The torchlight skimmed the elaborate sarcophagi with their bronze and gold effigies lying side by side in the silent and velvet dark. Elrohir's own shadow loomed ahead of him, as monstrous and misshapen as Bearos', and they fled deeper, one ahead of the other, into the most ancient catacombs where the bones of the earliest kings and chieftains slowly turned to dust.

As they plunged down crudely carved stone steps, Elrohir's foot kicked something that clattered away. He lifted the flaring torch and stared into the dark. Light caught on something pale, ivory. A bone. At first the thought he had dislodged one of the ancient bones buried in this gloomy place but he saw shreds of meat, blood. Splinters of bone where it had been gnawed upon.

He could not help the gasp that escaped his lips and the sudden surge of fear that clenched in his belly. He looked up suddenly to see that Bearos was crouched, not far from him, the horrid bulging eyes fixed upon him.

'He wouldn't shut upshutupshtup,' Bearos said, jaw clacking and snapping. He licked his lips with his long red tongue, blinking hard as he did so and his fingers were gnarled and clenched, like the long paws of a wolf.

Elrohir swallowed hard and steadied himself against the stone wall, realised his hand was shaking. 'You have sworn to show me where is Legolas,' he said determinedly. 'Show me.'

Bearos crept, sidled towards him, mad bulging eyes fixed upon Elrohir frighteningly. He was so like a Man and yet so completely alien, other. Bearos reached out tentatively towards Elrohir as if he might stroke a finger down his arm.

Jerking his arm away, Elrohir glared at the creature. 'You swore!' he said. 'I demand that you fulfil your oath!'

Snarling and gibbering, Bearos drew back. Then he bunched the muscles in his haunches and bounded away into the dark.

'Yesyesyesyesyes,' it shrieked from ahead, as it had before.

Elrohir hesitated for a moment, hair prickling on his head and neck. Then he crashed after it, following the maniacal screeching and giggling. They plunged down tunnels and fled upwards and downwards through chambers of silent tombs. More than once he thought they had already passed this way but he had no time to stop or think or mark their passing in case he was lost. Once, then twice, he thought Bearos was ahead of him, only to see the shadow of the creature dart right in front of him and then bound away into the dark.

Breathing hard, Elrohir rested one hand upon the rock wall and leaned over to catch his breath.

He felt the air shift and turned, lifting the torch higher. Suddenly his heart gave a great pounding beat for Bearos was standing upright in the dark, his outline limned hellishly by the red torchlight. He stood tall on his haunches but so inhuman, more like a dog standing stretched on its back legs. Or a wolf. Yes. Elrohir could see now. More lupine. The long snout and canines, his red tongue lolled and the hair was coarse. Elrohir felt every nerve in his body shrill with alarm and his hand rested on Aícanaro.

'You do not have me yet,' he said sternly, more firmly than he felt. 'And you have sworn to take me to him.' Elrohir forced himself to stride aggressively towards Bearos in spite of the horror that stiffened every hair on his head and neck and back. 'Where is he? Take me to him now or I will throw your trinket back at you and leave you here.'

That seemed to work for the ghoul suddenly dropped and rested its knuckles on the floor, grinning up at him with mad bulging eyes, red-rimmed as if it had not slept for weeks. Its jaw kept dropping as if it could not keep it shut and Elrohir found that horrific. But suddenly it turned and leapt away into the dark, shrieking and gibbering. He had no choice but to follow as it plunged headlong into a narrow tunnel and suddenly skidded to a halt about a hundred yards in. Elrohir almost clattered into him but managed to throw himself to the side for he could not bear the thought of touching Bearos, the very idea made his hair prickle stiffly and his gorge rise.

'Why have you stopped?' he demanded aggressively. 'There is nothing here.' He held the torch up and the light showed a smooth wall.

Grinning, Bearos groped about in the dust and his long fingers suddenly paused and scrabbled. He muttered to himself and his teeth clacked. He lifted his hand. A key gleamed in the torchlight. But Elrohir could see no door.

'What is this? Do you seek to fool me?' Elrohir demanded angrily, for there was no sense of Legolas. No lilting Song, no scent of meadowgrass and summer hay, no green-gold light. Suddenly he found he could not bear the loss and his heart lurched in his chest.

But Bearos twitched and pulled his face into a grimace. He sniggered and twitched again before he seemed to slide his fingers along a ridge on the rock and suddenly, something happened.

A click, and then the sound of grinding stone and he saw that the rock wall was in fact a thick, solid slab of iron but that he had not been able to see it. Bearos was pushing at it, slowly it opened, an inch, two inches and Bearos pressed his face into the gap.

His shriek frightened Elrohir more than he wanted to admit for it had pierced the silence like banshee's wailing. But it was the hoarse cry that came from within that had Elrohir leaping forwards and shoving Bearos out of the way, hope blazing in his chest.

'Legolas!'

'He is in there, lord. He awaits you.'

Elrohir lifted the torch and strained to see through the gap in the rock and the grinding slab of iron. He threw back the slab of iron and it crashed against the rock with a resounding clang that echoed through the tunnel and reverberated in the dark.

'Legolas!' he cried, and threw himself forwards but iron bars pressed against him and so he did not hear the distant cry that came from somewhere in the tombs, and an answering call from a long way away in the darkness. But Bearos did and he cast his mad gaze anxiously back over his shoulder.

Elrohir was only aware that here was yet another gate.

He turned and grabbed Bearos, shook him again hard. 'Open it!' he demanded.

Within, he could hear Legolas moan softly. He was alive! Elrohir's heart leapt in his chest.

'Elrohir?' A voice so weak it cut him in two. 'Elrohir?'

'Oh my Legolas! What have they done?'

Elrohir pressed against the bars again, thrust the torch between them so he could see his beloved's face.

Beyond the iron bars, the torchlight showed a cell carved roughly from the stone of the mountain. The deceitful warmth of the flickering torch lit the room, and there in the centre, was Legolas, his arms were pulled taut above his head, and Elrohir could see the strain in his muscles. the pain, the sinews stood out on his arms. His lean, hard body was stripped naked and stretched by chains that disappeared up into the dark. In the firelight, his long hair shone golden, sweeping down his strong back and the inked swirls and patterns coiled about his lean hips and trailed erotically down his thigh.

Elrohir gasped; it was his dream, his vision. This was his fantasy, the wicked dark lust that he thought he had tamed! This was for him! His fault. And then he noticed the hundreds of tiny cuts and bites over Legolas' naked body, blood smeared and almost indistinguishable from the ink.

'Legolas!' he cried.

Legolas' long green eyes were wide, frightened and fixed upon the gate in fear. 'Elrohir you must leave!' he rasped, his beautiful voice pathetically weak and hoarse. 'It is a trap! Please I beg you. If you love me at all, fly . Get out of here now!'

Elrohir threw himself forwards and gripped the bars.

'Look, look at him,' Bearos murmured ecstatically and Elrohir looked down at him suddenly for he had almost forgotten Bearos. 'Your Yôzâira. From your dreams, he comes. This is all for you.'

Legolas' lips parted and Elrohir grabbed at Bearos and dragged him upright. He wanted to rip the beast to pieces, wanted to tear his heart out. He brought his face close to the beast's and did not care about the foulness of its breath. 'Open it!' he hissed violently and Bearos grinned, his face full of wicked delight and he reached towards Elrohir and just stroked his arm. Elrohir jerked his arm back but Bearos looked upwards as he could see power and sparks of energy released from his touch, like hot cinders from a bonfire. 'You will open this gate now. You will release him,' Elrohir commanded through clenched teeth, spittle flew from his lips as he spoke and he thrust Bearos towards the iron gate.

Legolas gave a hoarse cry of distress. 'No! Elrohir, no! ' he moved his head in agitation and his voice was urgent and raw as if he had screamed himself hoarse. 'Please! Elrohir please! If you love me at all, fly from this place. It is a trap. It is you they want.'

Elrohir did not care; if it was him they wanted and it would free Legolas, they could have him. He threw open the iron grille with a clang and stepped into the cell.

0o0o