A/N: Olórin = Gadalf and Aiwendil = Radagast in Quenya.
4.
"We must search the dungeons," Gandalf turned to them. He stood atop a run-down flight of stairs that led to what must have been a great hall once.
Maedhros saw only broken walls and cracked pillars and somewhere at the far end, a dark pit opened into the stone floor. His breath hitched at the thought of having to sink into the hill and come upon the horrors that awaited there.
While they had crossed the bridge and climbed the path that led into the fortress, nothing had come forth to hinder them. The air still hummed with sheer malevolence that even the wizards could not feign indifference to, but through the shattered gates and inside the courtyard, nothing stirred.
"I will do no such thing," Maedhros whispered so faintly that only his father could hear him. "Call me craven, but I will not go down there."
"I wouldn't dream of letting you," Fëanor gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze.
"You are not going either," Maedhros said in a pleading voice. "It is unwise for us to be separated," he cleared his voice, trying to sound less daunted.
"Radagast and I will descend to check if there are any prisoners still alive," Gandalf said in answer to their hesitation.
"You hope to find survivors?" Fëanor asked.
"It is a fool's hope more than anything. Whoever is taken into those dungeons and put to torture may keep on living only after losing hope and sanity."
"Like Thorin's father, you mean? I wonder, have you ever told Thorin the truth about who really broke Thrain and drove him mad? He does not know the full tale, does he?" Fëanor pressed the matter.
"I have not heard you telling him either," Gandalf bristled, stepping closer to Fëanor.
"Save your bickering for another time and another place," Radagast came between them.
"Both of us meant well… for once," Gandalf gave Fëanor a pointed look before turning back to the decrepit hall. "You and your sons shall wait for us here. Come closer to the way below and stand guard. Some things may emerge that will need to be cut down. Let nobody and nothing but Radagast and I pass."
"You may be assailed once we are gone. If so, shout for us if you feel you cannot hold your own. And keep your eyes open. Many things among these ruins are not what they seem," Radagast added.
None of that sounded very encouraging to Maedhros, but he merely nodded, watching Gandalf light his staff and slowly disappear into the bowels of the fortress. Radagast followed and neither of Maedhros' kinsmen said anything for a while, their eyes fixed on the dark pit.
"Is it too much to hope that they'll never come out and we can just get out of here?" Curufin inquired only half-joking.
"Curufinwë…," his father gave him a small smile. "Eyes and ears open, all of you. Step away from there and find a spot that is easier to defend," Fëanor said.
They all scanned their surroundings slowly, retreating toward the pillars that still stood. Standing with their backs to the blackened stone blocked their view somewhat, but it was slightly better than being fully exposed. Maedhros stood facing Caranthir and Maglor a little further off, while Curufin and their father took cover against the same row of pillars. Tense and clutching the hilts of their swords so hard their fingers would ache, they waited.
How much time passed, none could say. But for long moments, not even a whisper passed between them, while eyes roamed over the decrepit hall and tried to pierce the gloom beyond. As he stood still and only his eyes moved, Maedhros saw that some statues still remained among the ruins. He had missed them at first, but there they were, nestled in nooks and corners of crumbling walls. They can't have been anything fair to begin with, but decay had not spared even Sauron's artistic attempts. Maedhros could see faceless shapes, many-limbed, broken and grotesque representations of monsters. Two seemed to have human shape, but cloaks of stone had been carved over whatever lay beneath. Maedhros thought it best not to wonder what that was. He whispered to Caranthir that he should also check the other side of the hall.
"Remember, Radagast said that things among these ruins may not be what they seem," Maedhros told the others when Caranthir confirmed four run-down statues behind the row of pillars Maedhros sheltered against.
"I don't remember any of these things being here when we first walked in," Maglor said.
"They were, I passed by something that looked like a man but had a bull's head," Fëanor replied.
"Count them, all of you," Maedhros told them. "How many on our side?"
"Why, you fancy taking a souvenir when we leave?" Curufin chuckled, but Maedhros heard the nervousness beneath it.
"Just do it. It'll pass the time faster, if anything."
They did count the statues and came to a total of eleven that they could see from where each of them stood. But there could be more outside the hall and in the courtyard. And, unfortunately, counting had not taken up more than a minute.
"How long do we wait for the wizards? If they don't come out by nightfall, you heard them yourself, it's not a place we want to be caught in," Maglor said to their father.
"There is no telling the passing of time here, but I suppose we'll know when the day draws to an end in the outside world. If the wizards take too long, we have no choice but to go in after them."
"But father…," Maedhros interjected, stepping away from the pillar.
"I know it's a traumatic experience for you, Nelyo…"
"No, it's not that. I swear I saw one of those things move," Maedhros pointed to the grotesque statues behind Maglor.
"What? When?"
"Just now, while you were speaking, Káno. I saw that thing with many arms creeping closer."
"I didn't hear anything," Maglor leaped out of cover, sword raised against the threat. "Are you joking? Are you trying to frighten me more than I already am?" he complained, seeing nothing but blasted stonework before him. Stonework that was not moving.
"No, I wouldn't!"
"Valar, you were right!" Caranthir pointed somewhere behind his father. That thing is moving!"
They all drew closer together and scanned their surroundings with wide eyes. There was no more blaming the darkness for addling their sight, the statues were indeed moving. They shifted jerkily, as though trying to pull themselves free of the ground. Rock began to groan and splinter and thud when the first of those things took a step.
"Well, there's something I haven't seen before," Caranthir observed dryly. "Is it just me or are they trying to come for us?"
"Who else would they be coming for?" Curufin rolled his eyes. "I don't think it's a good idea for us to huddle together and let those things hem us in, atar."
"You're right. Move out!" Fëanor shouted, holding his sword ready and walking toward the closest rock monstrosity. Maedhros thought it was some kind of wolf, but it had too many heads and legs and tails and it reared up when his father got closer.
With a mighty swing of his sword, Fëanor cut down one of the heads, but he staggered under the impact and took a step back. The air around them cracked as though under a thousand whips and with that, the stone monsters attacked. They moved much faster than before, in ways something made of rock should never have moved, but sorcery was at work and it wanted the intruders obliterated.
Maedhros charged and smote the throat of an orcish creature who's face had been eaten away almost smooth. The shock of metal against stone made his arms quiver and Maedhros felt the screeching grind in each of his teeth. The stone head rolled off, but from the creature's stomach an arm stood out and groped for Maedhros. He leaped out of the way and chopped off another limb, grateful for his Elvish blade. But that did little to hinder his attacker. Maedhros raised his arm for another swing, but one of his brothers yelled at him and, at the very last moment, he crouched, ducking beneath a fatal blow from an enormous stone club.
Maedhros rolled under a shower of stone shards and when he looked up, he saw the bull-headed statue pulling out its club from the shattered remains of the other creature. Whatever it had been crumbled to the ground, but its stone legs continued to pump the air. However, there was no time for contemplation, not when the bull swung again and crashed the club into one of the pillars.
"Watch out!" someone shouted.
"Don't let it grab you!" someone else replied.
"Get out of the way!" Maedhros heard his father thundering somewhere behind him. He jumped away from another crushing blow and tried to take off the swinging arm, but he only managed to carve half of it off and slow the creature down a fraction. Something boomed and exploded into an avalanche of rock by the entrance of the hall and Maedhros turned his head for a moment to see Curufin amid a pile of rubble, holding up his dagger and grinning triumphantly.
"You have to stab them! Take out your knives and stab them in their cursed stone hearts!" Curufin shouted.
Maedhros saw him leap onto another creature and the moment of distraction nearly cost him his life. Something grabbed his arms from behind, squeezing so hard that Maedhros felt his muscles screaming in protest. The bull-statue turned and raised its club, ready to smash him into pulp. No matter how hard he tried, Maedhros could not free his arms. He shouted and struggled desperately, eyes on the club that would crush his skull.
"NELYO!" he heard his father roaring. "Close your eyes!"
Maedhros averted his face as much as he could, but a hail of shards still rained on his cheek, breaking the skin and stinging horribly.
"Lower your head!" Fëanor shouted.
Maedhros went limp in the painful hold of whatever had him and let his head fall forward so much that the bones in his neck popped. He felt his father's blade hissing through the space he's just vacated and heard the screech of it as it went through stone. The grip on his arms slackened enough for Maedhros to pull away and shield his face as the statue exploded.
"Nelyo! You're bleeding!" Fëanor gave him an alarmed look. "Your face!"
"Just scratches!" Maedhros made to wipe his cheek but thought of the shards still embedded in his flesh and stopped short.
"Your eyes?"
"Not hurt. Hurry, atar, we have to help Moryo!"
They both rushed across the hall to Caranthir's aid, sinking their daggers into the vulture shaped monstrosity that had him backed into a wall.
"Damnit!" Caranthir cursed, picking up his knife from the rubble. "I wish I had one of those Dwarvish battle-hammers."
"I wish I had some of those Dwarves!" Fëanor smiled. "This stone business is for them, not us."
"ATAR!" Maglor ran to them from the other end of the hall. "Atar, watch out for the cloaks. They have real swords. And my blade bounced right off them!" Maglor held up his sword and they saw it notched and dented in many places.
"How many?"
"Three."
"And where is Curufinwë?"
Maglor pointed to the dungeons pit.
"He was there last I saw him."
They leaped over all obstacles to find Curufin struggling with one of the remaining statues and sending it up in splinters. He emerged covered in dust and shards, still grinning broadly until he noticed three more shapes approaching him.
"Kurvo, get out of there!" Maedhros shouted, watching the three cloaked statues brandishing very real and fell-looking swords.
Curufin did not wait for a second warning and hurried to his kinsmen, blocking a sword aimed for his head as he went.
"I don't think those things will be so easy to dispatch," he panted as he reached the others. "What are they?"
"I don't know, but the wizards probably do. I believe it's time we called for them," Fëanor said.
They retreated toward the dark pit, setting their daggers aside and picking up their blades. The three cloaked statues advanced on them slowly, taking their time as though they enjoyed cornering their prey. Even in the dim light, their swords seemed shrouded in a deeper darkness and beneath the stone hoods, nothing could be seen.
"Olórin! Aiwendil! Come out here now!" Maedhros leaned over the pit and shouted as loud as he could.
Fëanor repeated the cry and then, they all stood ready, moving away from the opening, lest they should stumble or be pushed into it. The cloaks drew nearer and with an ear-rending screech, one of them attacked Fëanor. Maedhros saw him block the first strike and leap out of the way when a second and a third followed. Curufin rushed to his aid and Medhros would have done the same, but he had his own adversary to face.
A desperate fight broke out and although they were outnumbered, the statues could not be destroyed. The Elvish blades bounced off them with little harm and they moved with uncanny ability. All the Elves could do was defend themselves and hope that their voices would be heard over the horrible noises erupting from under those hoods.
Maedhros ducked and the blade meant for his throat struck deep into the pillar beside him. He rolled out of the way as the top half collapsed where he had been and with the corner of his eye, the Elf saw Gandalf emerging from the dungeons.
The wizard's voice boomed and it was joined by another a moment later. Light flooded the fortress and Maedhros shielded his eyes, crouching low. He could see nothing past the protection of his palm, but he heard the deep voices of both wizards growing, echoing all around him as they chanted some secret spell in the harsh Valarin tongue. Maedhros might have understood, but the words were drowned in tortured screeching and he needed to shield his ears as well. His head felt ready to split under the assault of those terrible calls and Maedhros hoped that what he heard in them was horror.
The spell lasted a few moments longer and then, the light dimmed. Maedhros tried to regain his feet, but still covered his ears, because the screaming and the shrieking seemed to be growing louder. He blinked and shook his head, seeing a fallen cloak sprawled at his feet. Before Maedhros' disbelieving eyes, the blade in its hand dissolved into dust and the hilt slipped from the stone fingers.
Tentatively, Maedhros uncovered his ears and heard the terrible noise drawing away. But the ear-splitting shrieks were picked up in the forest, joined by roaring and howling and screaming from many tortured throats. It sounded as though thousands of creatures were being torn to shreds and cried out in a terrible cacophony.
His breathing labored and his head swimming, Maedhros staggered to his kinsmen. He saw Maglor's horrified expression and Caranthir's pale, shocked face. The wizards leaned against each other and propped themselves on their dimming staffs. Maedhros searched for his father and saw him leaning over the broken body of another cloaked statue. Fëanor was shouting something but Maedhros barely heard him over the ringing in his ears. He ran to his father and saw Curufin lying on the ground. His brother was deathly pale and his eyes moved frantically from one of their faces to the other. The hilt of a dagger stood out from his shoulder and when the screaming woods quieted a fraction, Maedhros finally heard Curufin's agonized moans.