Many thanks to my fantastic and wonderful beta, Anarithilien who nudged the plot into even darker and more perilous realms that it was already!

Thanks to the readers who leave reviews. Thank you- it does make a difference when it's hard to motivate myself.

ulkrelz- a sort of sixth sense that the Dwarves have underground that tells them about the Stone, but also alerts them to the presence or passage of other dwarves.

Chapter 37: Khamûl

Arwen trotted at Erestor's side, hand on her sword like an elven page from the Last Alliance. It would be well to maintain that illusion, Erestor thought to himself and murmured as much to her. She nodded tightly. Above him the white Tower of Ecthelion loomed and he was reminded, vaguely, of Gondolin, although it was not as fair. The lines of the city not as elegant, nor as precise. The stone not as smoothly rendered. It looked clumsy and child-like but there was an impression of grandeur, he thought. He was looking for a flash of black Noldo hair, of sable cloaks and sable horses. And there was none here.

Guards were approaching them, hands loosely on the hilts of swords, faces alert but not hostile towards the Elves and Erestor thought on what they had already been told as they had ridden through the city. All had seemed peaceful and untroubled until they reached the fourth level, and there they had been stopped and challenged, albeit briefly. Overturned carts and signs of battle had been evident at the gate and the guards battered and bruised. The Gatekeeper, Cendir, had told them the tale of the attempt on Aragorn's life, the disappearance of Legolas, and the capture of the Ghoul that was responsible for both. But Erestor had also noted the fog that lay curled over the citadel like a serpent, and the air of unease and disquiet that still lingered in spite of the rebels' defeat. Cendir had told them that the Ghoul was held captive in the Tower of Ecthelion and that one of the brothers of Aragorn attended the King and the other was with Mithrandir questioning the Ghoul.

They had agreed that Glorfindel and Tindomión go to aid Elrohir in the search for Legolas and so had gone to the Tower of Ecthelion, and that Erestor would escort Arwen to Aragorn's side.

When they arrived at the King's Palace, Erestor assumed his usual polished air, his face smooth and untroubled. 'Good man, we seek the lord Elladan,' he said calmly to the guards. 'I and my page,' he turned and indicated Arwen whose hood was pulled up over her face, 'are from the household of Imladris and bring greetings from Elrond and the Lady Galadriel, Queen of Lothlorien, to the King and his brothers. Do you know where we might find him?'

The guard bowed. He was a tall man and strong, his lean, handsome face regarded them curiously and with interest. 'The King's brother, Elladan, attends him and Elrohir is in the Tower of Ecthelion with Mithrandir.' He cast a quick, appraising look over them, his gaze lingered longer on Arwen for she had struck a pose that she supposed masculine, but Erestor sighed inwardly, for it just looked odd. 'My name is Arduin, my lord. I will escort you to the King.' It was only when the Man turned and led the way that Erestor noticed the tear in his cloak, the bruise under his eye and thought that here was more evidence that Aragorn was still vulnerable, for this was the Citadel of the city itself and should be invulnerable.

Erestor turned to Arwen with compassion for she was in agony not knowing how her beloved Estel was. 'Come,' he murmured for her ears only. 'Let us find your errant betrothed and see what he has been up to.'

The Man was quick to take them to the King's chamber and Erestor had to hold Arwen back. 'Remember Arwen the future Queen of Gondor is not supposed to be here,' he hissed and she glared at him. 'It is highly improper.'

'I am not a fool,' she hissed back crossly. "I am not going to throw myself upon him!'

He smiled back, fondly and a little proud of her feisty spirit. But she was no fool and understood statecraft better than any Erestor had ever tutored, better than any man. He turned back to the guard and said, 'Will you announce us, good sir. I am Lord Erestor, of Lindon, Himring and Imladris. This is my page.' He nodded dismissively at Arwen whose hood was still pulled up over her face and Erestor cast a glamour quickly as Arduin announced them into the King's chamber.

As they stepped within, they saw a knot of brown-clad healers gathered near the bed and Erestor felt Arwen's sharp gasp. He held onto her for a moment and said loudly enough for all to hear, 'Go, child. Assist the lord Elladan, as you are skilled in healing.'

Arwen gave a cry and flew to Aragorn's side like a bird set free. She fell to her knees beside the bed and reached for him.

'Your King is much loved in Imladris. He saved this one's life,' he said loudly so that the healers, gathered around the bed, could hear. Heads turned, eyes widened and mouths opened as they took in Erestor himself and he distracted them enough with a wide, predatory smile, so that Arwen could smooth back Aragorn's hair from his pale face without note.

And there was Elladan.

He had turned slowly towards Erestor at the sound of his voice and Erestor almost held his breath for the loveliness of Elladan's smile. His heart leapt and he wanted to fly to Elladan as Arwen had flown to Aragorn. But he quashed it ruthlessly and focused instead on dazzling the healers by elaborately brushing his blue-grey velvet coat and shaking out the lace of his shirt beneath the sleeves. He raised an insouciant eyebrow and flashed his white teeth, letting his amber eyes skip over their astonished and bemused faces. He smiled in the most predatory way he could muster and watched one or two take a step back.

'Pray,' he waved at them with a flourish, thinking how much he enjoyed the velvet coat, how it accentuated his lean shape, showed off the tight breeches and thigh-length riding boots. 'Continue,' he said and flashed another grin at Elladan, who gave him a knowing look as he turned back to Aragorn and brushed a hand over Arwen's head as he did, like a blessing.

'The King is safe,' Elladan said softly and Arwen bowed her head and took Aragorn's hand in hers.

Erestor stood at the doorway, watching Elladan. He found it soothing to watch those skillful hands as Elladan poured and mixed the jewel-like liquids in blown glass vials, the flash of the silver surgical instruments he wielded with such delicacy. There were glass cups in a bowl nearby and the acrid smell of burnt wool told him they had cupped the wound to draw a poison.

Elladan seated himself beside Arwen on the bed and lifted the bandages. Arwen could not help the cry that flew from her lips as she saw the wound but Elladan smiled gently at her and Erestor could see the wound was deep but it no longer bled. Elladan nodded to one of the healers and made way for him so he could dress the wound afresh with long white linen cloths.

Erestor lifted one of the glass cups and picked out the burnt wool. He sniffed it, puzzled, for there was something about it that pricked an old memory: an underlying tinge of sharp bitterness. The unpleasant odour told him the poison had been at least based on belladonna but there was something else, something less common that he recognised from the Old Days. With a shock, he was plunged back, long ago, to the red and black pavilion of Caranthir, his long black hair, deeper black than any other Noldo, pulled back sharply off his fine face and piercing eyes. Caranthir had a way of looking at you that convinced you he could see into your soul; it was a pity he had not looked deeper into Ulfang's twisted and blacked heart, thought Erestor as he had countless times before. And cursed the ill luck that had allowed Ulfang to beguile the normally least gullible, most suspicious and perceptive of the seven brothers. The stink of this poison reminded him of Ulfang; he had coated his arrows in the same stuff.

It unnerved Erestor. How could anyone in the end of the Third Age know or concoct such a poison that he had not seen or smelled since the First? What devilry was this?

Elladan glanced over to Erestor replacing the glass cups carefully on the chest. Elladan's lovely face was serious and alert. He slightly dipped his head, acknowledging Erestor's thought. There were some answers Erestor would want from this Ghoul that was imprisoned in the Tower of Ecthelion, and who seemed to have overwhelmed the Fellowship, a new King, and the Tower guard. He was glad the Ghoul was under lock and key and that Glorfindel and Mithrandir were with Elrohir. But he, Erestor, thought that he would be the one to get information from it; neither Glorfindel nor Mithrandir knew the things that Erestor knew about how to unlock secrets. Although he thought that nothing was beyond Elrohir if he thought it would lead him to his beloved Legolas.

And that in itself was a tale, thought Erestor. He turned his gaze to the bed where Aragorn lay deeply asleep. Arwen knelt over him, her beautiful face agonised that she might have lost him.

When the dressing was done, Elladan sent away the healers so that Arwen could pull down her hood and hold Aragorn's hand in hers. Her eyes were anxious and fixed upon Aragorn's pale face.

'Onómë, Arwen' Elladan said softly. 'I have given him crystôl,' he said and Arwen jerked at the name of the drug. 'It was needed to fight the poison,' he said quickly. 'And you can see that he lies peacefully now. The worst is over but he may dream a little vividly.'

Elladan turned now to Erestor. 'I go to find Elrohir,' he said. 'Will you stay with Arwen?'

'No, Erestor said immediately. 'She doesn't need either of us. By the time we return she will have the whole kingdom shipshape and organised.' Arwen gave a little smile at his confidence in her and he patted her on the shoulder. 'That bloody Mirror is still lost and so is Legolas. I do not think the two unconnected and with Glorfindel blundering around, it is not entirely unlikely that if he comes across the Mirror we might well have more than some weird little ghoul and one missing elf to deal with, however brave and delectable.' He paused and looked at Elladan. But there were things from the dark and deep places that were better forgotten and lost…things that had been imprisoned for a very long time and that hungered for the freedom of Middle Earth. 'We nearly lost you in Phellanthir,' he said very softly for Elladan's ears only, for Elladan had shoved between Erestor and a morgul blade, and they had almost lost him. 'I do not intend to let either you or your supremely careless brother go anywhere near that Mirror. I will do that.'

0o0o

Gimli ran as fast as he could over the Rath Dinén and knew that Gandalf was not far behind. There was no way they could have kept up with Elrohir and Bearos for they had torn out of the Tower and the supernatural speed of Bearos must have tested even Elrohir.

But they knew it was the Hallows where Bearos would lead Elrohir. It was whereabouts in the Hallows that was the trouble. And Gimli guessed that Elrohir would not leave marks to show their passing in case Bearos saw them and knew he had been betrayed; even now, with the Oath Bearos had sworn to Elrohir, Gimli did not believe that he would take Elrohir to Legolas. The Ghoul that Bearos had become was treacherous and cunning. Gimli cursed and swore as he ran, convinced that Elrohir had lost his wits and followed the Ghoul to the same fate as Legolas.

The fog that had covered the citadel had trailed away and now was only over the Hallows, where it lay thickly as if to veil it from all intruders. Ahead of Gimli stretched the Rath Dinén, disappearing into the fog. But joy of joys! Standing upon the parapet of the bridge as if waiting, were two figures and it seemed as if the fog did not dare touch them and the sun glinted upon their swords and gleamed in their long hair. Gimli cried out in glad astonishment, for it was Glorfindel and Tindomión.

'Ah! Elladan told me that you had travelled together and they left you behind,' cried Gandalf gladly. 'But I did not hope that you would be here so soon! Well met indeed. But where is Erestor? I had hoped for his aid and what he might bring.'

Gimli glanced up at Gandalf for the appearance of the Elves was completely unexpected as far as he was concerned and the idea that Erestor too was in the city gave him sudden hope. For though the counsellor was as intimidating a presence as Gimli had ever met, he was quite sure that the Elf lord had hidden powers that could only be helpful.

'He has gone to lend his aid to Aragorn,' said Tindomión briskly as the Dwarf and Wizard came to stand beside them. Gimli humphed in disappointment that Erestor was not here and Glorfindel glanced down at him briefly, his expression unreadable. 'We were told Estel was sorely hurt by an assassin's blade and near death,' Tindomión continued. He shifted his sword in its scabbard and Gimli caught a glimpse of the finest workmanship, itched to see it more closely… but later, he promised himself. When he had Legolas safely locked away and tucked into bed so tightly he could not move.

'He was,' Gandalf said. 'But he is recovering thanks to his brothers.

'But now we have to find Legolas,' Gimli chipped in briskly. He felt this was all taking too long and Elrohir would be far ahead by now.

'Yes, we have been told as we passed through the city that Legolas has been taken by a Ghoul, and that the creature is captured and in your hands.' Glorfindel's fearless face was serious and his blue eyes that seemed to contain such great wisdom and joy as if he had gazed upon that which was most fair and it lived in his memory, were puzzled. 'And yet I feel the need to be here, for Elrohir calls.'

'Ah, good. You know then our quest,' Gimli said approvingly. He took a few steps away to chivy them along but Gandalf did not move. Instead he stood looking out over the Hallows with a faraway look in his piercing blue eyes. 'Well, we have no time to lose,' Gimli added. 'Elrohir is ahead of us. The Ghoul swore to show him where Legolas is but I do not believe him. But we are far behind for they ran so fast, and we need to catch up with him.'

'Ah. I see.'

Gimli glanced up at Glorfindel. He had travelled with the Elf lord to Phellanthir in that strange time before the quest and respected Glorfindel as he respected few others. But he seemed to be in no hurry either and stood waiting beside Gandalf.

'I assume that Elrohir or Elladan has told you about the Mirror that Gandalf brought from Minas Morgul, that it went missing and he and I went in search of it?' Gimli took a few more steps away as if he might drag them along by his will alone.

'No. We knew a Mirror was here. It is why Tindomión and I have come ahead.' Glorfindel stood alongside Gimli now but he did not look as though he were going anywhere without Gandalf.

'I will not waste words,' Gimli said, a little irritably, 'for Legolas is at risk every moment we delay!' he said more loudly.

'I am not merely wasting time, Gimli,' Gandalf said just as irritably. 'I am listening.'

'Well while Mithrandir is listening, perhaps you will tell us what happened, Master Gimli?' Glorfindel looked down at Gimli but he was not laughing. His eyes were serious and concerned and Gimli felt that if Glorfindel felt the need to wait for Gandalf to listen, then he should perhaps too.

'Suffice to say that Gandalf and I went out of the city, believing the Mirror to have been stolen,' he told the two Elves. 'We think now that it was merely moved and we were tricked. In that time, Legolas was lured to the Hallows and imprisoned. We have not been able to find him. We captured the Ghoul and have been questioning it to make us tell us where Legolas is, but until Elrohir came, it would not speak.'

'You think he lives still then?' asked Glorfindel.

'With all my heart and soul I hope he does,' Gimli murmured and Tindomión, who was close by, smiled slightly and said, 'Elladan said that you had become close.'

Gimli could not reply for his heart felt like it would burst.

'Ah. I have found them,' Gandalf said and shucked up his robes over his arm. 'They are indeed under the earth and in the tombs…I cannot find Legolas still,' he said softly. 'But I could not do so before anyway, and Bearos said he lived then. I can only think there is some spell that prevents me from finding him.'

Darkness was falling over the tombs and if Gimli had not been with the three elves, he might have balked at going there in darkness. Swiftly and within moments they had reached the mausoleum entrance, its heavy architecture loomed over them in the darkness. The tall doors were flung open, and one creaked heavily but did not close. The dimming daylight fell into the gloom and Gimli noticed that one of the four torches that lit the vestibule was missing. So Elrohir must have taken it, he thought.

Glorfindel lifted one of the other torches flickering in its sconce, and turned at first as if to hand it to Gimli but the look in the dwarf's eye made him pause and smile. 'I was once told by one who knew them well, that the sight of Dwarves in the dark is better than it is in the fair woods and meadows.' He had a faraway look as if reaching far back into memory. 'I, however, do not.'

Glorfindel's footsteps rang on the marble floor, inlaid and chequered back and white. He frowned and leaned down to peer at rust-brown marks on the walls, holding the flickering torch close to the marks and frowned.

Blood.

Gimli knew that Bearos had pursued his victims down here, crunched on their bones and drank their blood. There had been a child…

The deeper they went, the more pressure was in the air, like a charge was building, like something had turned its attention towards them and hurtled through Space like a comet. Tindomión paused once and grasped Glorfindel by the arm. 'You do not have to come,' he said urgently. 'You do not have to face it again. If something has been going on here and the veil is weakened, it could break through. And we do not know if Maedhros will, or can, come to our aid.'

Gandalf came to stand beside them and his eyes were faraway, looking deep. 'There is something else down here. Something less brutal than the Valarauki, but more sinister.' He turned his head to look obliquely at Glorfindel. 'It knows I am here. It knows you also. It turns its attention towards this place.'

But the Elf-lord merely looked him deep in the eye. 'We cannot leave Legolas here. We cannot ignore that he is down here somewhere and there is no one else and that Elrohir too may be lost.'

Gimli knew this path, he had travelled it twice now with Gandalf and led them with certainty, past the silent effigies, the low arches where the Stewards were buried.

At last, Gimli frowned. 'I searched here with Beregond only days ago and found nothing…' He paused. The fiery red torchlight cast their shadows huge on the walls of the tomb and etched new shapes in the darkness from the silent effigies of the Kings. He shuddered, knowing that Bearos had kept Legolas down here alone and afraid. 'Except I thought I heard something down there…' He indicated the narrow passageway that was rougher and less skillfully hewn than the other passages.

Glorfindel glanced down at him. 'I too can just feel something, although it is very faint. As if some sorcery is hiding him. But I know that Elrohir has passed this way.' He glanced at Tindomión who nodded briefly in agreement and Gimli thought that Elves must have some similar instinct to the Khazâds' ulkrelz. 'Where did you go?' Glorfindel asked Gimli.

'Here, I will show you.'

Gimli led Glorfindel along the narrowing passageway, as he had gone before. He let his fingertips run lightly over the stone, feeling, listening, waiting for the telltale fractures in the rock, the lingering sense of green-gold light dancing through the shadows, a fragrance of meadow-hay and sunlight…He thought he caught the edge of something and paused, but the same horrid sense of having missed something, of having come the wrong way suddenly assailed him and he turned anxiously, bumping into Glorfindel as he did.

'Where are you going?' the Elf asked. The flickering torchlight gleamed on the faces of the two elves and suddenly Gimli was afraid; their faces were beautiful and cold, unsmiling, otherworldly.

Gimli shook himself; this was Glorfindel, whom he trusted absolutely. And Tindomión who was a sworn friend of Legolas. He was suddenly glad Erestor was not with them, who looked vulpine and alien with his topaz eyes.

The sense that Legolas was not here but back the way they had come hit him once again. 'We have missed something,' he said anxiously. 'He is back there!'

'He is not.' Glorfindel grasped Gimli's arm so firmly that Gimli stared up at Glorfindel and blinked. It was strange; he had felt an absolute compulsion to return back the way they had come, that he had passed Legolas already, that he was suffocating in this dungeon of stone…He ran a little pattern of Iglishmêk upon the palm of his hand, unseen and secret but it cleared his mind. He paused and thought deeply. Then he nodded. 'Yes.' He looked up at Glorfindel. 'Yes, there is something turning me back. You do not feel it?'

'No, I do feel it. But I know it is a spell.'

'Then we draw close.'

Gimli pressed lightly on the rock, feeling with the pads of his fingers and letting the rock speak to him, of the cutting, the roughness of the tools, the carelessness… clumsy work the stone had endured.

He frowned and stopped looking with his eyes. He leaned against the stone and pressed his ear against it. He let his nostrils widen and took in the air.

Suddenly something. The air was different. Stale. A rank stink just teased his nostrils and he pulled back.

Go back.

He frowned. 'There is something down this passageway,' he said hopefully. 'It seeks to turn me back but now with you here, I am aware of it. The rock speaks of unclean words that have blasted it with sorcery and unnatural magic, gnawing at it like teeth, not the clean cut of blades and chisels.'

Gandalf held aloft his staff so a light glowed upon the walls of the tombs. The still effigies of long dead Kings glowed. And then they heard a sound: far off, down the narrow passageway that Gimli stared down, was the distant echo of iron on stone.

0o0o

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 lifted at the sound of Elrohir's voice and though he could not see him, he cried out 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 had parted in a breath, 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 if he could see power and sparks of energy released from his touch, like hot cinders from a bonfire. 'You will open this gate now,' 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.

As the iron grille clanged open, Elrohir stepped into the cell, dark Aícanaro in one hand and holding aloft the torch with the other. Shoving the torch into a sconce upon the wall near the door, and leaving Bearos skulking at the gate, he rushed to Legolas. He clasped Legolas around the thighs, lifting him so it was he who took the weight and not Legolas' raw and bloody arms. He looked up but could not see where the chains were fastened.

'Eru! My poor Legolas!' Elrohir cried, looking up at his beloved's face. His heart felt like it was bursting in his chest with love and fury at what had been done. 'I have you!' he cried but he was shocked at how cold Legolas was, and how pale. His body twitched and spasmed. Blood was smeared over his torso and limbs, the strange cuts and marks, as if he had been cut many times. His poor hands and wrists were raw and bloody where the shackles rubbed him but his eyes half opened and fastened on Elrohir and the slightest smile tipped his bruised and swollen mouth. It wrenched Elrohir's heart.

'What has he done to you?' he murmured furiously. He looked about for Bearos, jaw clenched for he wanted to kill him. Through the gateway, the fiery torchlight glowed upon Bearos' bestial, elongated face and he drew back his lips and showed his long yellow teeth. Elrohir gasped, suddenly realising that whilst he had gone carelessly into the cell, Bearos had remained skulking and hiding without; he could so easily close the door. The Oath Bearos had sworn seemed insignificant and Elrohir cursed himself for his own stupid impetuosity.

'Elrohir …please.' Legolas' voice was weak, exhausted and trembling. 'I B..BEG you! L..leave.' His face was crumpled in pain and anguish. 'They want you…to release them …w…with Aícanaro.'

He barely registered Legolas' words so angry was he with himself for his own foolishness; he could not get to the iron gate before Bearos clanged it shut on them both and he could never, ever leave Legolas to save himself. Instead he searched the darkness of the cell for another way out and saw that something glimmered faintly, beyond Legolas.

Long, pale. Gleaming in the dark. Elrohir realised that it was Legolas' reflection as he hung suspended on those long chains, and his own reflection standing beneath Legolas, clasping the slender, blood-marked body and looking up like he was beseeching the Woodelf.

'The Mirror is here,' he breathed softly. The Mirror's frame fitted almost perfectly into the cell, covering the back wall and Legolas had been hung suspended in front of it. Elrohir frowned; like an offering, he thought. But to what? Not to Bearos, still lurking just outside the gateway for Elrohir could see his shadow flickering though Legolas was still unaware of the Ghoul's presence.

Something moved, fluttered in the Mirror. Something thin and black. It seemed to obscure their reflections momentarily, as if something was wrapping itself around them both but Elrohir could not see it or perceive it except in the Mirror. Soon, only the flickering torch near the door was still reflected, and then that too was gone, though Elrohir could see the torch perfectly well when he looked at the doorway. His heart gave a bound of fear and the hairs on his head stiffened. He felt Legolas twitch uncontrollably.

'G..get out of here… Th..they are coming. The Nazgûl.'

But Elrohir had known that already. When Bearos called him Ravéyön, he knew. 'I am not afraid of them,' he said defiantly, 'And I will not leave without you.'

There, to the left of him and half way between the Mirror and the iron gate he saw that there were heavy rings driven into the rock. Chains ran taut from these rings up into the darkness and, Elrohir guessed, ran through more iron rings above them and then to the shackles that held Legolas suspended. He could release Legolas if he could shatter the iron rings. 'I have to let go of you for a while,' he said softly to Legolas and Legolas groaned. 'I can see how to release you.'

'They will not allow it…Elrohir…'

'Just…Can you brace yourself? Just for a moment.' And slowly he let go. He heard the stifled moan as Legolas' weight was back on his raw and bloody wrists and as he let go, Elrohir flew to the iron rings and drew Aícanaro. He raised the dark blade and struck at the chains with all his might. Sparks flew and the iron chains buckled a little for Aícanaro was made from Elenalanta, the strange black metal that could strike through anything. Elrohir raised the sword and struck again and the iron rings gave a little more. Just a few more strokes, he thought but Legolas cried out and Elrohir turned.

Bearos had skulked into the cell and now crouched beside Legolas, looking up with cunning, malicious eyes. Reaching up tremulously with a greedy hand, he stroked one finger down Legolas' naked thigh, pressing one sharp claw into the skin so a bead of blood squeezed out. At his touch, Legolas let out a terrified whimper and shrank away. A sob broke from him. 'Eru! I beg you. Run! It is him! Their slave!'

Elrohir spun around and kicked Bearos away. He pressed Aícanaro to the Ghoul's chest. A drop of blood ran down the groove and pooled in the runes that curled over the blade.

'Do not touch him,' Elrohir snarled through clenched teeth.

'I have touched him over and over.' Bearos sniggered and licked his lips, his finger, the blood. 'I have his taste in my mouth forever.'

Elrohir held Aícanaro against the ghoul's neck, pressed so that blood beaded against the blade. 'I will kill you. You have sworn fealty to me but now you are worthless.'

Slowly Bearos crept closer to Elrohir, until he crouched at his feet, Aícanaro at his throat and there was an unearthly excitement in his eyes. 'I kept my word,' he said. his voice eerily soft, and it raised Elrohir's hackles. 'I brought you here. I did as I swore. Yesyesyesyesyes. But no escape for him. No escape for you.'

'Then I have nothing to lose,' Elrohir said bitterly.

'No. Nothing,' Bearos agreed and his jaw clacked and he gibbered uncontrollably. 'But there is one way.' His eyes glittered brightly, manically. He leaned against Aícanaro as if he did not feel pain or the sword's bite. 'I found it,' he whispered. 'I brought it here for you. It was always for you.' Elrohir stared at him but he felt the weight and warmth of the Ring nestling in the silk lining of his tunic, against his chest, against the beat of his heart.

A hiss that was not from Aícanaro seemed to echo around the cell, and the sound of dry coils shifting in the darkness.

Elrohir's gaze darted around the cell, he kept Aícanaro levelled against the Ghoul. But in the corner of his eye he saw that in the Mirror, something was moving. Black, thin, tendrils like smoke growing denser, twisting and spiraling about each other. He stared in horror as the tendrils grew denser, more frenetic. Legolas whimpered in fear and twisted weakly. There was a distant, muffled sound, like crows' wings beating against glass.

'Yeeeessss. It is the Brethren. They are coming. Yesyesyesyes!'

Elrohir stared, appalled to see that the Glass began to ripple, like grey silk. Legolas cried out and twisted in his chains and Bearos gibbered and shook his long head from side to side as if he were a deranged dog bothered by a fly.

'They want you. Yeeeesssssss….They want Aícanaro. He will release them!'

Elrohir stared at his sword. Hadn't Legolas said something similar? That Aícanaro would release the Nazgûl?

With a horrible realization, he saw that the Glass rippled again and then began to bowl outwards. Long tendrils of darkness twisted and swirled, coalescing into shapes like huge bats flapping against the Glass. Screeching filled the cell and their flapping wings pressed against the Glass. Nazgûl! They opened wide their jaws and shrieked so that Elrohir wanted to cover his ears, to block out the terrible sound. With an anxious glance at Legolas, he strode over to the iron rings once more and swung Aícanaro, intending that this should break the iron, split it asunder but as he struck, the Glass billowed around him, and his blade lightly touched it. He looked down in horror for the Mirror clung to him, pressed against him like wet silk and the Nazgûls' shrieks surrounded him, but he did not stop and the force of his blow finally split the iron and the rings sprang apart. The chains rushed through the rings but Elrohir saw too that splinters of the Glass flew up as if he had broken it too.

Only then did Bearos' words resonate: Aícanaro will release them.

The splinters seemed to incinerate, glowed silver then blue, and he stared for a moment. Fine cracks appeared in that one place but it did not split. He watched breathlessly for he realised then with absolute certainty, that the Nazgul somehow intended that Aícanaro's Elanalanta, could cut through anything, and they believed it could cut through the Glass and release them back into the world of Men.

Intensely relieved, he turned back to search for Legolas through the screeching, and the grey Glass waves billowed, rushed around him like an incoming tide, pounded against the walls of the tiny cell like the sea against a harbor wall. But he could see nothing in the billowing grey silk. 'Legolas!' he shouted over the storm.

Elrohir turned, bewildered. An empty skull with burning eyes suddenly appeared before him, open maw screeching in his face and he fell backwards from the onslaught of the Nazgûl. The Glass sucked at him, a wet silk grey sea that churned and swept about him, pounding against him. In the storm of shrieking and the pounding waves of Glass, he heard Legolas screaming.

For a moment the waves parted and he saw Legolas struggling on his knees in a sea grey battered by the Nazgûls' huge winged shadows tearing at him, devouring him. The Nazgûls' shrieks merged with Legolas' screams. Elrohir tried to struggle towards Legolas, only a few yards distance, but the Glass surged upwards and clung to Elrohir, pressing over his face, his mouth and nose, dark tendrils wrapped around his neck and he thought this was it, the end. He could not move, could not fight his way to Legolas' side. Both of them would die.

Aícanaro... A sibilant, triumphant sneer in the darkness. Angmar was there. Aícanaro. You have come at last.

Angmar stood close, wrapping the darkness about Elrohir's face, his mouth, binding his arms.

You are lost. And we will devour your Yôzâira.

'No! You will not have him!' shouted Elrohir and he struggled against the choking darkness, the grey silk that clung to him, over his mouth and nose, suffocating him.

Do but draw Aícanaro, one sharp strike and all is yours, your Yôzâira as you desire him, dominion, power. An image of Legolas as Elrohir had found him, hanging, naked, powerless was thrust before him. I have given you your desire.

A heat pulsed at his chest and he suddenly remembered the Ring: Bearos had given it to him, an heirloom of his house, but Elrohir knew that was a lie. He knew what it was that nestled near his heart. Legolas was lost to him in the waves of the Glass and he knew he had no choice. He fumbled in the pocket if his tunic and found the Ring, jamming it on his finger. The red jewel gleamed like an eye and the Ring curled and coiled about his finger.

Ravéyön. A long sigh, relief, triumph, elation. It has taken much to bring you here.

About his own hand coiled tendrils of smoke, coalescing into the form of a serpent with red glittering eyes; the Ring.

Khamûl.

Angmar stepped back, triumph on his skeletal face and a horrific grin. Now, raise Aícanaro and break us free.

The Glass slowed and stilled, drew back to the Mirror as flat and still as a mill pond as if waiting for him to strike the Glass and free the Nazgûl back into the world. The Nazgûl had drawn back and stood in a semicircle in the Mirror, swords drawn. They waited for Aícanaro, and before them, Legolas knelt, hunched over and shivering uncontrollably, the chains pooled around him and gleaming.

Khamûl wove his snake-head side to side and the tendrils of darkness coiled about Elrohir's wrist.

They will devour him.

Khamûl's bitter eyes met his. In that moment, Elrohir understood all that was in Khamul's mind: he did not want the tyranny of Angmar. He did not want to be the Witchking's lieutenant, subservient, ordered, compelled. It was as much Khamul's desire that the Witchking remain in the Dark as Elrohir's.

He felt a strange tingling in his fingertips, that spread down into his hands, his arms and he raised his hand, seeing the Ring glow with fiery energy, a charge of Power, Power that was in him. It had blasted from him in times of great need, but he did not know how to unlock it. In the past, Elrond had wielded the Power that Elrohir had to heal Elladan when he had thrown himself between Angmar and Erestor and taken the morgul blade. Glorfindel had used it too, upon Amon Sûl to fight off the winged beasts of the Nazgûl.

But the Ring seemed to open a channel. He felt the charge building in him, the pressure and fury of it, and as the charge grew, so did Khamûl. Its serpentine body coiled about Elrohir's wrist, his arm, raised its flat head higher and its body became denser, more muscular. In the Glass, Angmar stood, broadsword resting before him and watching.

Suddenly the Ring opened up, blasted crimson Power against the Glass, and Khamûl, huge coils thrashing, jaw agape and fangs gleaming struck at Angmar.

There was a soft implosion of sound and the Glass was blown inwards, bowled inversely. Angmar was thrown back and Khamûl hissed in triumph and surged forwards, his coils denser, muscular. Elrohir felt sick looking at the huge snake. He felt the Ring's delight. It swelled with Power and urged him on and he raised his hand and summoned all his Power, channeled through the Ring and felt a huge surge, an orgasm of Power and hurled it into the Glass.

The implosion deafened him this time and threw him backwards. The Nazgûl were forced back and Khamûl piled his huge coils up and against the Glass and turned his flat head briefly towards Elrohir, beady eyes glittering in the red light.

Elrohir's heart was pounding hard and his breath came in loud gasps as if he had run a great distance. He leaned against the wall to catch his breath and a feeling of elation and great joy filled him. This is Power, he heard himself say. This is what it is like to be invincible, to protect your loved ones. This Power is here, in you. At last I have found a way to channel it.

But the Glass rippled and the Nazgûl gathered themselves.

Traitor! Angmar raged at Khamûl, and the Brethren as one, raised their black shrouds and battered the Glass, pounded against Khamûl. Their swords and knives drawn, and teeth and claws bared they attacked their former Brethren. Khamûl's muscular, sinuous body pressed against the Glass which raged against him, a storm of grey silk, viscous and fluid. It was buffeting Khamûl, whipping against him and pushing between his coils, leaked and squeezed and oozed, pushing apart the coils of the huge serpent and Khamûl pressed up against the Glass, fangs bared against the Nazgûl.

Traitor!

Angmar pressed through the fluid Glass, old broadsword raised.

There will be no rest for you!

The Nazgûl surged forwards together, striking at Khamûl's muscular body as it coiled and grew stronger, swelled. Elrohir saw that Khamûl's intent was to press the Glass back to the Mirror and to then contain the Glass. That would give Elrohir time to reach Legolas and escape. He did not wonder how Khamûl would escape. He did not care.

The grey swells of mist shifted for a moment and Elrohir saw Legolas he was kneeling, chains pooled about him. His skin was bloody, trickles of blood down his arms, shoulders, belly, thighs. A long cut was on his cheek. His head was tipped back and his long hair streamed behind him. He was beautiful. Arousing. Elrohir felt the shiver of lust and was disgusted with himself.

He looked away in shame and horror at himself and then he heard a snigger. Bearos crouched near Legolas, long strings of saliva dripped from his jaw and his hot red tongue lolled from his gaping mouth. He turned his hideous face towards Elrohir and licked his thin lips.

'You have my Ring,' he said angrily. 'But I have your Yôzâira,' he added gleefully. 'And I am very, very hungry.'

Elrohir launched himself at Bearos. Aícanaro came down hard on something and teeth gnashed at his skin, like knives. He grabbed the ruff of the Ghoul's neck and struggled to throw him off. But Bearos' sinewy, preternatural strength was greater than Elrohir's and he felt teeth sink into his shoulder. He punched the creature' muzzle hard and heard it yelp and let go. In that moment, he threw it off and drew Aícanaro and slashed down, saw and felt the hot red spat of blood. He kicked and punched and elbowed and kneed at Bearos, barely seeing him for the red fury that came over him. Suddenly Aícanaro was knocked out of his hand and skittered away. Elrohir felt his fists crunch down on Bearos' jaw but he felt the Ghoul clawing its way to his throat, its mad eyes, bulging and bloodshot, lips drawn back to show yellow teeth. Its jaw dropped and then it lunged forwards and he could not stop it. I will die, he thought. They will devour me.

Abruptly the stinking weight of the Ghoul had gone. He pushed himself up. Bearos had disappeared and a trail of blood led to the gateway of the cell.

Standing over him, breathing hard and utterly exhausted and trembling, was Legolas, looking as Elrohir had never seen him in any battle. His face was white and his hand trembled. In his hand was Aícanaro, the dark blade coated with blood but the grey folds of the Glass had squeezed through Khamûl's coils and begun to billow around them. The Nazgul screamed and dived at Khamûl who thrashed and struck his fangs again at the Nazgûl, driving them back again into the Mirror's frame.

Legolas' eyelids flickered and he lurched forwards. Elrohir caught him tenderly and took Aícanaro from him. Carefully gathering Legolas to himself, he half lifted his beloved Elf, half supported him, feeling how cold he was, how he trembled and shivered. Legolas stood, leaning heavily against Elrohir, clasping his tunic and gazed up at him rapturously.

'I tried to stop you,' he murmured deliriously. 'I didn't want you to come. I thought….' His teeth chattered. 'I thought they would p…possess y…you.'

Elrohir smiled and kissed him gently on his forehead but they could not linger.

'What h..have you d..done to ma..make them s…s…stop?' Legolas asked in breathy, frightened voice, glancing over his shoulder at the mirror. Elrohir frowned. How did he explain it? Did Legolas not see Khamûl fighting, pushing back the Glass? He realised then that Khamûl could not been seen. Perhaps Elrohir himself could only see the force, the Power that was Khamûl because he wore the Ring itself?

'I do not know,' he said with truthfulness, pulling Legolas closer to him as they took the few steps toward the cell door. 'Perhaps it is because Bearos has gone.'

Legolas looked round in sudden terror. 'He is not dead?' Abject and absolute fear was in his voice then and he shot a terrified gaze up at Elrohir. 'Quickly, before he shuts the gate!'

There was a mighty crash as Khamûl slammed against the Mirror. A terrible pounding against the Glass, against Khamûl came from the Nazgûl and their shrieking filled the cell so it felt like his ears would split. He heard Legolas cry out in terror but Elrohir did not stop. He did not care if Khamûl was annihilated as long as he got out of this dreadful cell with his beloved Legolas.

The iron gate swung slightly in the wind created by the battle between Khamûl and the Brethren. Quickly Elrohir kicked open the gate and they lurched into the dark passageway. He turned as they fled, pulled the Ring from his hand and hurled it towards Khamûl, clanging the gate shut behind him. You can be your own master! he told it.

0o0o