Chapter 40, Last Arrow
Everything was falling apart.
The world was collapsing around Legolas as he dived across the battlefield and slaughtered everyone in his way. Tauriel, Hithfaeron and the whole posse of extraneous elves they insisted should tag along for the sake of ridiculous regulations were dashing somewhere around him, but they were irrelevant. Aye, they could eliminate the enemies. They were equipped to kill every single orc they would meet, but they could not take away the humiliation Sulrochil was about to face.
No arrows were left in his quiver - except one - but it did not matter now. His arms had grown blades, his eyes shot fire. He was a tool for murder - his only aim was to slay the whole world.
The trees were shrieking with disgust when Legolas entered the green door of the forest. The familiar bountiful abundance of nature was gone. Instead, the ground was dotted with heaps of dead men, clotted with dirt and blood, but he refused to look at them. These were the people he should have safeguarded today. But he had failed.
In every way, he had failed.
The men were dead, and he would have welcomed the same fate to Sulrochil as well, if the alternative choice was dishonour. At every moment, he felt Sulrochil was not dead, but worse. Death would have been straightforward - anything but this.
The indignity of it was rampaging in this forest, and a part of him could not dare to think what could have happened to her, and the other part forced him to face the fact that it was his fault she had been subjected to the disgrace.
As he lunged towards the screeching spot marking Sulrochil's location, the corpses on the ground began reshaping. Arms of the men disappeared, legs vanished. Slowly the bodies turned into boulders. Woods thundered when hundreds of rocks started rolling after him. A legion of rocks was chasing him - and when he glimpsed the sight behind him, he saw no rocks but bloodstained orc heads on spears.
The spears tried to take the lead, but he ordered them to stop. These were only the witch's bogus images, and if she believed he would fall into her schemes this easily, she had to be out of her mind. Meekly, the bloody heads heeded his commands and faded into the woods, the spears slithered underground. When his mind was clear again, he became aware of Sulrochil's movements and sensed the all too familiar 'come here' signal. She never did it if she was not in distress, so she must mean it. Something was off, though. The signal was too slow and the strides back and forth too short, overall too wobbly.
The disquieting imbalance of her movements forced him to quicken his pace. The uneasiness inside his mind grew as he began to feel the usual turbulence of Sulrochil's emotions. Why he had not felt it earlier, he did not know - and had no time to try and figure it out.
During the 'come here' signal, her movements to and fro were supposed to be steady and solid, not this confused jiggle she was performing this time. Right after the second backwards movement, she stopped - and that was precisely what alarmed Legolas. She was, of course, supposed to pause after the signal, but now she was absolutely stock-still. Even when she was hiding, her posture waved with nature. It was unlike her to stand so stiffly in one place, so it was certain that she did not do it by her own will.
Legolas could not even remember a time when he had sensed her as motionless as she was now. It was not in her to freeze totally. The only conclusion was that she was now held firmly in place by someone else.
Then he felt it. The beginning of abuse.
Sulrochil's soul was overrun with shame.
Legolas quickened his steps. Myriads of one-eyed tin soldiers began parading around him, and he tried to refuse the witch invading his mind, but it was impossible when the devil had found the right route to smash his defences.
Like an army of little one-eyed warriors, the tin soldiers marched in straight lines. One, two. Drums rolled, horns blew. One, two, one two, they trooped around in a perfect square, composing a stage for a wedding.
Gingerly, the bride tiptoed closer, blazing with innocence. Her dress was adorned with magnificent, elaborate laces on its neckline. It was a dress of bright, unspoilt whiteness, in mint condition, awaiting the beauty of the wedding night.
One unblemished bride of impeccable purity, clad in an immaculate dress, was strolling in the safety of the tin soldier army. An altar of love shone in the middle. Bouquets of red roses gave out their enchanting scent, and towards the altar, the bride proceeded.
Suddenly, the sky ruptured, and a dirty hand penetrated the scene. It intruded from the crack in the air, groped the bride everywhere, and ripped her dress.
The white linen was torn asunder and thrown to the ground, exposing the bare paleness of the scared bride. The fingers brushed her everywhere, leaving trails of filth all over her skin.
The hand scoured up and down, rubbed her skin and invaded every nook of her body. The intruder ground his way into her core and made her his toy.
The dirt flowed between the bride's legs, degrading all she had.
All that was left of the scene was one tainted ghost. Only an empty shell was left, the soul sucked away. All life, all joy - gone.
The humiliated wraith tried to reach for dignity, but there was none left. Her lucid arms searched for her mate, but he could not be found.
Legolas slammed his mind shut. Go away, you wicked witch! This was their weapon, he attempted to convince himself. It was a deception! The illusions were their ammunition. If they cannot take their bodies, they must assault their minds.
From his peripheral vision, Legolas saw Hithfaeron and Tauriel exchanging hand signs. All elves disappeared to the forest and began approaching the nearby clearing from different directions. Legolas took the shortest route, and it was impossible to distinguish which trees surrounded him - they all seemed the same when suddenly, all he could hear was the ugly sounds of a bitter fight in the clearing, but all he could see from this distance was green foliage. Not even the tiniest gap existed to see what was going on.
A black thundercloud was raging in place of his heart when he finally got a glimpse of the view through the foliage.
His quiver held one arrow.
He had envisioned thousands of possibilities in which he would be forced to use it to save Sulrochil's life, but this had never crossed his mind.
This - when her whole being was being defiled.
Hastily, he glanced at the scene in the clearing and grabbed the arrow. Not thinking anything, he nocked it and drew.
"Shargu," Sulrochil said, "You are a coward if you refuse to listen to my proof for what I did!"
"Proof, hah!" Shargu growled.
"I told you, Shargu," another orc cut in, "we didn't kill Gworf! So, maybe the dust mite really did it."
"Vogh," Shargu replied, "you twit! She's lying, can't you see it? Maybe she saw it - or maybe it was another elf who saw it and told the little miss princess?"
"Well, she said she has some proof, and now we shall hear it," Vogh said with a wicked smile and turned to confront Sulrochil. "Let's hear many details about what was inside Gworf's tent so we will believe you."
"Alright," she said and closed her eyes to recollect better. "Where shall I begin? So, let me see. When I entered Gworf's tent, he was sleeping, and his head pointed to the left." She paused and watched the changing expressions on Shargu's face. "His sword was beside his right hand, as you would expect, so there was nothing new. On his left were remnants of his dinner - a half-eaten roasted bird and on the ground there was also a small knife which he had used for eating."
"You were not there!" Shargu shouted and grabbed his sword, "Someone else told you all this!"
"Stop!" Vogh said and pointed his sword to Shargu. "You're a fool, Shargu! I told you we didn't kill him!"
"I won't believe this if she doesn't tell us which sign was engraved on the handle of his knife," Shargu grumbled.
"How could she know that?" Vogh asked.
"Well, isn't she a cute little elfin - they see things!"
"I noticed the sign," Sulrochil said, "but I do not know what it means. I cannot name it for you, and I have no words to describe it to you, but I can draw it on the ground if you release me."
All four orcs who held her shifted their positions unconsciously, but could not move until Shargu commanded it.
"Alright," Shargu said reluctantly. "Release her left leg, and she can draw it with her foot."
As soon as her leg was free, Sulrochil stretched it before drawing but did not dare delay things too much to avoid provoking suspicion. She leisurely formed the sign on the ground with her toes, and when it was ready, everyone gawked at the mark.
Numerous matters coincided.
Vogh raised his sword and swung it directly at Shargu, who was still gaping at the mark, not believing his eyes. Several orcs seized their weaponry and started smashing one another. Shargu's head dropped to the dirt and rolled close to Sulrochil. She kicked it to hit the one behind Shargu and without delay booted the orc who was clutching her right leg. He loosened his arms to get his sword, and when he did that, the two orcs capturing Sulrochil's arms released their grip to defend themselves against Vogh and his jacks.
Sulrochil collapsed to the solid earth and - since no one was interested in her anymore - crawled to pick up one orc bow from the ground and studied the area to check if she could snatch some arrows as well. The orcs continued the battle, and at each moment, more and more orcs fell to the ground, dead as a boulder. The endless sea of orc heads on sticking spears tried to conquer Sulrochil's mind, but she thrust the image away and used the last of her concentration to crawl to the nearest dead orc who had arrows.
The number of standing orcs was diminishing swiftly as the monstrous creatures demolished each other. Sulrochil had a bow and a black arrow in her hand, but she did not need to use them. The dingleberries did it all by themselves.
Soon only Vogh was standing in the middle of the clearing alone. Everyone else was slain.
"Stop right there," Sulrochil shouted, aiming an arrow toward Vogh's head. "I am not going to kill you because I need you."
"For what?" Vogh replied arrogantly.
"To go and tell the other orcs it was me who killed Gworf! To tell them Shargu was a fool. I won!"
"What will I gain from-" Vogh began but sank dead to the ground in the middle of the sentence when an arrow pierced his chest.
The entire environment froze. Sulrochil knew this arrow. In absolute silence, Sulrochil turned her head to the archer.
"Legolas, you witless catkin!" she yelled in the direction from which the arrow had come. "Why did you come here at the worst possible moment and kill the last orc when we could have used him?!"
Legolas rushed closer, investigated the domain as he ran and stopped abruptly a dash before he would have collided with Sulrochil. "He was threatening you!"
"He was threatening me? Did you not see it was me who was pointing an arrow at him? I had the situation under control, as you can very well see for yourself!" Sulrochil bent her neck back to glare at him and threw her arms up in outrage. "They are all dead!"
Legolas was towering over Sulrochil. Pointedly, he turned his eyes to catch every single possible detail in the clearing. "Not by your weapons."
"Who cares who killed them? I made them strike each other!"
"You were captured." Legolas fixed his eyes to Sulrochil's broken quiver. In his soul lingered the shame of how it had been removed from her. "They were going to use you."
Sulrochil waited for a flash of his rage and prepared to endure it all. She had failed and deserved to hear all there was to come. His soul was tainted with disgrace, but the explosion did not come. He lifted his head and inhaled deeply. "How did they catch you?"
Abruptly, Sulrochil's sky was shredded, and battalions of defeated tin soldiers marched around, forming a wobbly square. Soon, the army of battered warriors moved aside and made way for one pale ghost whose ripped wedding gown was slipping down from her. The white linen was ruined, stained with shame, and exposed her bare skin to all covetous eyes.
The adulterated bride was degraded forever. Her debauched form did not leave anything uncertain. Her pure beauty was gone - only disgrace left.
The defilement darkened the daylight. The disgrace chilled the air, and humiliation provoked a tremendous black abyss to open under Sulrochil's soul.
Into the black, she was being sucked.
The mangled wedding dress hung between them when Legolas looked in turn at the black bow in Sulrochil's hand and the black arrow in another. Fight, Sultithen, fight.
The eternal soul could be destroyed only by the depths of darkness that absorbs all life from the world. No power to resist the pull seemed to be left.
All Sulrochil saw was the repugnant orc heads sticking on spears and their dead orbs stalking her every move. The wrecked dress was discarded on the sand, and one little boy was clutching his dear Pony. Nana was gone, and the Pony was missing her. Will the Pony understand why Nana had to leave?
Fight, Sultithen! This is war! These ugly nightmares are their weapon! They cannot take your body, you are too cunning for that, but they try to seize your soul!
I cannot do this. I am weary, I am beaten, and why must there always be the never-ending war?
All around them lay dead orcs, and it was an all too familiar sight. There were ugly cuts on the corpses, and oh, she had seen this too many times. An all too familiar disgusting odour of spilt blood penetrated her senses, and from a distance, a flock of vultures was already arriving to devour the feast.
Fight! Legolas fixed his eyes on her. We are the leaders, an example for everyone around us! Only after the war can we let our souls deal with what has happened! These images are their weapon, and you are to fight!
The disgrace pained Sulrochil, but she knew it ought to be shoved away now. The real matter could not be addressed presently. A row of unborn babies soared in the sky. She ought to fight to make them both forget this. Babies reach for their mothers. For his sake, she must shove all the feelings aside. Go away, witch! For his sake and the sake of their people.
If you cannot fight them, fight me! Legolas flung, and glowered at her. Blame me for killing your orc! Call me names! Whatever helps you forget this display and the trouble in our souls! Now fight! Give me your best shot!
The shame was there - but it had to be pushed away until later. For him, she must do this.
"You killed Vogh!" Sulrochil burst out, even though she had no understanding of how to proceed, and hurled the bow she was holding towards a boulder.
The smash made something open in her soul.
"Oh, so now we are using their names, are we?" Legolas sneered at her and let his gratitude over her impertinence flow into her heart. That was a good start, but you can do better. "Perhaps, you would have fancied asking him for dinner?"
"You are the worst dandelion fuzz ball I have ever met!" she yelled and was getting a grab of her life again. "We could have asked him why I was captured!"
"Well, their intention was quite clear!" he shouted and kicked Sulrochil's broken quiver on the ground.
"They were fools!" she screamed and split the arrow in her hands. "They did not succeed in stripping even one piece of clothing from me. Their aim was clear - to defile me, but they had no idea how to do it!"
"I think they could have managed to do their purpose!"
"That perhaps," Sulrochil replied and threw the arrow parts to the same pile with all the destroyed weapons. "But they had no clue how to handle the situation to get me there."
The ghosts were about to re-enter their minds again. Sulrochil inhaled deeply and pleaded with the fresh winds to give her some insight on how to guard themselves against the demons.
"Had they been quick, they could have done it," she began to dissect all the occurrences. "I would not have any chance against several orcs, but they let me talk! Can you believe it?! They let me talk - and that was their greatest mistake!"
To evaluate, to inquire, to use their heads was the only way out of this maze. "I only had to tell them I had killed Gworf, and it was enough to get them to slaughter each other."
Legolas realised what she was trying to accomplish and jostled all feelings aside. As calmly as he could, he queried, "How did they catch you in the first place if they were such dumbskulls?"
Sulrochil paused for a moment to recollect everything that had taken place earlier. "It was different in the beginning. All morning, I felt odd in the forest. It was like I was hexed."
"Perhaps you were," Legolas said. "The witch's schemes are devious."
"My mind was messed up, and I did not feel right at all. Now it is gone, but back then I had horrible visions of… of… I do not wish to repeat those now, but they suggested… I mean, they made me feel… Please, do not ask about it now. It was like my mind was captured before my body. Then, everything began to clarify at some point, and when I was at this site, my feelings were sound again. As sound as they can ever be, of course."
"If you were bewitched, it is not possible to gather your wits in a short time frame, especially when you are concerned. Do you remember a certain point when the witch left your mind alone?"
"Everything happened quickly," Sulrochil said and halted to think. "All sounds were muddled, and my eyesight did not function correctly."
"This is futile. We have no time to dwell on these matters now. There are more pressing things to attend to now," Legolas said, and turned to shout something at the surrounding elves.
"But it is essential to know why Sulrochil was captured," Tauriel cut in, lifting one black sword from the ground and throwing it over her shoulder. "If we unravel this secret, we get to know what is going on."
"There is a war out there," Legolas remarked. "Hundreds of men are being killed. Sulrochil is safe, so-"
"But this is important!" Sulrochil exclaimed. "They did not capture any elf they could get as a war prisoner. Instead, they knew who I was and took me because I was wearing this blasted coat!"
"Yet, the main object of this incident cannot be the intended action towards Sulrochil," Tauriel said. She felt the echoes of the demonic visions still lingering around the elves and decided to perform superfluous considerations to help these two fight the magic. "There were dozens of orcs here, and yet they managed to fail. They were not equipped for this situation at all. They had not been taught how Sulrochil would fight and use their stupidity. However, it had been made certain she would get caught in the first place. In conclusion, it was essential for them to catch Sulrochil and threaten her with all the filth. Yet, implementing these deeds actually to her was unnecessary to the witch. Whether they would execute it or not was irrelevant to the witch. Her attention is already elsewhere, but where - we do not know. There must be a reason for all this nuisance, though. And we need to discover it."
As Tauriel gave her speech, Noruinivel ran towards them. Quickly, she browsed the vicinity and saw Legolas and Tauriel standing in the middle of the clearing. The ground was full of dead orcs, and Hithfaeron and his group were studying the scene. Sulrochil was nowhere to be seen. Heavy grief was smothering the Prince, and it pained Noruinivel. Something terrible had happened. Of course, the pain was not visible for everyone, but she had been observing the Prince's antics since he was still playing with tin soldiers at the castle, so if anyone could detect the pain behind his mask, it would be Noruinivel. "Am I too late, my Lord?" she gasped. "Sulrochil is captured."
"Was captured, Noruinivel," Sulrochil said and took a small step to the left. She had not intended to hide, but her horror had made her soul do it unbeknownst to her.
Slowly, Noruinivel moved her eyes until she finally saw Sulrochil and was aghast. In the air around her was flapping a torn white gown smeared with black fingerprints.
"She is here," Legolas said and cast his stony eyes towards Noruinivel. "But you should not be even close to this place! You have promised us you would stay with the King!"
"Please, forgive me, my Lord," Noruinivel said and bowed, hoping the visions would disappear from her soul. "I felt Sulrochil was in peril."
"You felt," Legolas said. "Of course you felt, and I have heard this nonsense too many times. You had clear orders! Besides, Sulrochil was in no danger at any moment. They were only a bunch of botchers, and she broke free in no time. But, Noruinivel, you have failed at this one simple task. Why?"
"The King sent me away," Noruinivel continued and scrutinised Sulrochil. The ugly vision was fading, and she was beginning to see correctly. Sulrochil's quiver and weapons were missing, but in addition to that, her body was unscathed. Noruinivel did not dare to bore her eyes into Sulrochil's true being - she was too afraid of what she would see in her soul. "After he had been handed Sulrochil's knife."
"The knife?" Sulrochil wondered. "Why would someone deliver him my knife?"
Her fingers curled in the air like she was holding her knife. Slowly, she slit the air with the invisible blade. Through the gap in the sky, she saw the truth and whispered, "To lure the King. Make him believe I was under assault."
"But you were under assault," Noruinivel said.
"I was under attack until the moment I lost my knife," Sulrochil turned her eyes to the sky to remember better. "After that, the haze disappeared, and I was facing the usual pack of simpletons again and not the epitome of evil. I was never the target." Sulrochil paused and knitted her brows. "But how badly must they have hexed my mind?! Of course, I was never the target, but the King! They only needed the knife to give him the impression I was in deadly danger."
"Not deadly!" a loud voice thundered from the skirts of the forest.
Everyone turned to look at the edge of the forest and saw Mithrandir. Violent whiteness surrounded the wizard as he strode closer to the elves. "But under the threat of losing your dignity! That is the ultimate thing that would abolish the King."
"Ylvätär," the wizard continued and moved his eyes upon everyone. "The Lady of Jyrkkätörmä is behind all this. The Northern Mountains bred her. Stone is in the place of her heart. She has only one wish. Only one desire in the heartless void in her chest, and it is to rule the world. Nothing more, nothing less."
"But is that not what all evil creatures want?" Sulrochil asked.
"Aye, my Lady," Mithrandir said and bowed. "All evil wants that, but how they intend to do it varies. Therefore, the means for good people to resist it are different each time. What we must do now depends on Ylvätär's choices."
"Where is she?" Legolas asked.
"Patience, my Lord," Mithrandir said, and bowed. "The forest is speaking again. It yearns for love to dwell in the heart of its people. It is the only way to fight her. Ylvätär's hunger cannot be fulfilled if it faces the love of all elvendom. Your love must be the key. The forest needs a leader to be able to resist evil. You must be the rulers of these woods now." Mithrandir bowed again to Legolas and Sulrochil. "We have no one else."
The wizard fixed his eyes towards the ground. "Thranduil ought to be the King of the Forest, but I fear that is unachievable. His trust is diminishing quickly as he is now encountering the one who is behind his wife's death."
Legolas scowled at the wizard. "Did that devil kill my mother?"
"It is a long story," Mithrandir said. "Ylvätär killed Glaneth so that her death would gnaw at the King's soul. For three millennia, he has been walking on a tightrope. He has learned to do it well, but now they are strangling him with Sulrochil's supposed destiny. The forest needs a ruler. If Thranduil is not going to be it, you two must reign over these woods."
"Father is in danger," Sulrochil whispered.
"He is ready to either kill or die," Legolas replied.
"I am afraid he is not going to end up doing either," Mithrandir stated. "They want him to walk into the darkness with them."
"No one can turn Father to that path."
"Ylvätär wants the King to torture Lokowid and thus tear his own soul apart. The only reason to capture Sulrochil was to make him meet the final defeat. He did not manage to save his wife. Now the last straw was to catch her daughter and make him believe she was disgraced."
"Ylvätär is born of iron ore," the wizard said. "From the same mountain, was also born her ring. Now the ring is approaching, searching for its prey. This forest has been quiet for almost three thousand years, and now I can hear it anew. It has been touched by the hope of gaining its ruler. Therefore, it has begun to revive. It told me grim tales about the occurrences in the north. The ring is advancing, and it is old and mighty. It needs a magnificent power to oppose it."
"You are the wizard, are you not?" Legolas spoke.
"Aye," Mithrandir said. "But this is out of my scope. This is about elven love; thus, it belongs strictly to elven spheres. That is why I have not been aware of the development of these circumstances until now. Alas, an elven frame of mind is not thoroughly achievable for a wizard. Or, perhaps I should not say 'alas' because my mind would be but a ball of fluff should every aspect of your dottiness truly enter my mind."
"Ahem," the wizard continued. "It is always utter love twaddle when your people are concerned, and therefore the might that shall overcome this sorceress must be of elven initiative - and it must be powerful. Something that represents elven love - perhaps even another ring."
"My ring?" Sulrochil said and swung her palm on her chest.
"Your ring is but a toy."
"A toy?" she mumbled, and her palm curled into a ball under her chin. "But you said it was powerful. The Ring of the Third."
"That was a deception. Your ring has no name and is only an ordinary piece of jewellery. I said what you needed to hear then. You required all the help you could get, and if I made you believe your ring could help you, it was worth it."
"But?"
"You believed in it, so it was enough. The magic of your ring is love."
"But that is not enough for overcoming the evil ring?"
"No. Your ring is too young, a child of a ring. It has not had enough time to gain enough love."
"Are you certain any ring whatsoever can overcome the evil ring?" Tauriel asked. Lady Galadriel had not mentioned anything about this. Instead, she had destined Tauriel to have a role in this battle. A beacon she should be. She did not have any light in her, though, and it disturbed her.
"I do not understand this evil at all, but this is about elven matters, forests and trees and whatnot, and therefore what else could be enough if not love?" Mithrandir said. "But love is, of course, thinner than air. Hence it needs a symbol of this world - a ring."
"Perhaps the King has his wife's wedding ring with him. Could it be adequate?" Tauriel asked, even though she did not believe any ring could defeat evil, neither could love. She only wanted to probe how much the wizard knew about this situation. "The target is him, so perhaps only his love for his wife would be enough?"
"Perhaps…" Mithrandir said to himself in deep contemplation. "That and his children shall be present. Sulrochil, put your ring on your finger now. It might be enough of a bluff to trick Ylvätär and gain us time."
"Do you know where he is?" Legolas said to the wizard, and turned to face one of the elves, "Estenneth, give your weapons to Sulrochil. She has lost her own in this fight. You can take a replacement from one of the dead elves when you get back to the battles down there."
"Aye, my Lord," Estenneth said, removing her weapons and handing them to Sulrochil.
Sulrochil nodded and began to attach them. Even if Estenneth was short, the quiver was still too big for Sulrochil. Obediently, she carried it, though, even if she was unsure if she could fight today anymore. Not for her own sake, but for Legolas' sake. How many more blows to his soul could he take? At least he had arrows now when someone thrust a bunch of them for him as well. With his new arrows, he could kill all enemies threatening Sulrochil - except the most tenacious one - the tyrant inside her.
"I know where Father is," Sulrochil said, testing her new bow. The bow seemed blurred in her eyes, but she was assured of Father's whereabouts. "He is on the mountain, where there is the bluff on the mountainside drawn on the map."
"But the map is erroneous," Legolas said. "There is no bluff at that site."
"It is not! When I described the area to Noruinivel, I was certain there was a bluff right there. And she drew it."
"She would have drawn anything you said."
"But I felt it. I felt the bluff right there. It means Lokowid is there, and there we shall also find Father."
"Sulrochil is right in this matter," Mithrandir said. "The forest is pointing us there. The King needs you. Both of you. He requires a beacon of love to guide him away from evil. Your love is the beacon for him. Follow me, you fools."
Tauriel let everyone go before her. Swiftly, she took a last glance at the clearing. The wizard had said the King needed a beacon, just as Lady Galadriel had foretold. The wizard had misinterpreted the beacon as Sulrochil and Legolas, though.
But was it Mithrandir who had missed the point? How could Tauriel be sure if it was not Lady Galadriel who was wrong?
Lady was never wrong.
Except now she had to be. Everything was in pieces.
A beacon? She was not it and never would be. A ring to beat another? All too implausible. Love to solve everything? Never. This was not a children's fairytale!
The forest became gloomier as Tauriel neared the mountain behind the others. The forest around her was aghast and dreaded for its children.
Horror hit the heart of the forest as the vileness was severing every living thing above the earth. The evil had black curls and a lovely smile - but behind it was hidden the blackest soulless creature the forest had ever met.
The woods cried. Rain dribbled down from the solemn sky, and despair was weighing the spruce branches down.
Soon, they reached the mountain, but nothing was to be seen. There was no bluff, none whatsoever as far as Tauriel was concerned. Only the usual rocky mountainside opened in front of them. Mithrandir walked back and forth and mumbled to himself. Occasionally, he lifted his hand to touch the air.
Tauriel was convinced the wizard had no clue how to beat this witch but was too afraid to admit it. He had no concept of elven nature - only wild guesses about dubious rings and love saving the world. Love was mighty but definitely not meant for crushing evil creatures.
Into the frozen spot in the creature's core all good was being sucked. Into her being, Ylvätär wanted to gather all living things walking, crawling, slithering on earth. Her only purpose was to make hers everything that existed.
Alone, the witch could not do it - she needed a lever for herself, and she had chosen her target. Along an avenue of exploitation, Ylvätär rode. Into exhaustion, she was chasing her target.
Her plan was perfect - to kill an elf's wife and leave him alone in a world where everybody needed others to feel right, to stay alive. If one was left in solitary confinement, it was the worst punishment one may ever face. With others, the bodies, minds and souls of the elves were regulated. Isolation led to a breakdown.
It was a prison. Without touch, one was lost.
With his wife and with both his children ablaze and bouncing, the King should have learned to know the forest, to truly feel it and let it dwell in his heart.
Ylvätär had stolen it all.
"These rocks are an illusion," Mithrandir said and tried to walk forward. He trod against an invisible wall and bounced a step back as the air did not let him enter Ylvätär's realm.
Legolas shot an arrow towards the unseen wall. It transformed into a small pebble and fell to the ground.
Sulrochil put her palm against the squishy indiscernible fence in the air and hoped her ring could open the door for them. The ring stayed the same as ever, and so did the evil edge. The miraculous entrance did not appear out of nowhere.
Mithrandir hit the ground with his spear and muttered incantations in all languages. Nothing happened. He tried again, to no avail.
The witch's ring was made of golden viciousness, it had been gouged out of the narrow cleft, reaching all the way into the iniquitous core of a glacial mountain. It could not be beaten by natural forces - because power as extensive as that did not exist. It needed magic, but the wizard did not possess enough might to demolish the evil. He did not even have enough force to trespass Ylvätär's blurry borders.
But if the wizard could not defeat the witch - no one could.
They were lost.
Sulrochil pressed her ear against the nothingness before her. Into her core began seeping the despair of the woods.
Soon, the reason for the torment was disclosed to her - on the bluff stood the King. The rock under his feet was morphing into burning coals. The air around him was hazy with ash and smoke.
Venom surged in his veins.
Each slash on your skin is a fracture in my bones, but it was not the sword that killed you. Your life ended the moment you realised you were about to die and your daughter would perish with you.
Every moment you die, she dies - and I stand on the grave of hope.
I am only the residue of life.
Would your death have been easier to accept if it had not been so mindless? Should you have died in a war valiantly defending your people, would it have made more sense? Would it have been more tolerable? But now - pregnant with a little baby - yet butchered like livestock.
You died. I became the device of revenge.
The prison is waiting for its only resident. The artfully orchestrated means of torture are arranged, the monstrous poison developed only for this moment.
I have had three thousand years to hone my plan into perfection. Nothing less than flawless shall be sufficient for the retaliation of your death.
Flaming vengeance in my veins, horns of wrath as my crown, I am reborn.