For days the Ranger and the Elf followed the Orcs. They stopped
seldom and then only to rest and eat a hurried meal. Dunadan wasn't
certain how they could possibly rescue Egla Ash when the hoard of Orcs
surrounded him the entire time. He feared that the only escape for the Orc
would be a swift arrow in the heart. He didn't like to contemplate this,
but the thought was ever present in the back of his mind. He glanced over
at his companion. The Elf's beautiful face was taut with worry, the blue
eyes grim, but determined.
I hope to have such friends as this on the road I soon must travel, he thought, a smile tugging at his lips. His Rangers were such friends, fiercely loyal and devoted. He had given them leave to visit family and friends and then join him later at Rivendell. He himself had traveled to Lorien, there to speak with the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. He had meet also with someone not looked for. A smile touched lips and rested in his eyes as he ran south with Legolas.
"Arwen." He breathed, calling to mind the image of how she had looked as they had stood locked in one another's embrace atop Cerin Amroth, the emerald grass beneath their feet studded with elanor and niphredil. There under the Midsummer stars they had plighted their troth. Their happiness had been overwhelming. They had spoken briefly of the Shadow that was even now stretching across the land. And they spoke of the choice that the Evenstar must make. His heart burned with the love he felt for her. At times it made him feel as if he would burst asunder, so strong it was. His hands still felt the silken weight of her dark hair, netted with jewels like stars; its scent was intoxicating against his cheek.
"Arwen. Im mel le, nin Undomiel." [Arwen. I love you, my Evenstar.]
Their footfalls were muffled as they ran swiftly toward the south.
Legolas' own thoughts weren't as light and carefree. He berated himself for his slowness. The matter of mere minutes had turned the tide against them. If only he had come sooner upon the small escort Egla Ash would be free, not surrounded by his captors being lead away to a vile fate.
I cannot allow him to suffer this, he thought solemnly. But like the Ranger at his side he saw no hope of rescuing the Orc alive. This grieved him and it tore at his heart. But he would do what he must. He knew Egla Ash would rather die than become like his debased brethren. The arrow would fly if it must.
He recalled a song that Egla Ash had once made up.
"Revia nin celeg min
Gliri ned i gwelu.
Tog i ruien dad."
[Fly my swift one
Sing in the air.
Bring the hunted down.]
Legolas had laughed with delight and amusement.
"Even I don't sing to my arrows, mellon."
Egla Ash grunted happily and smiled, shrugging.
"It fills me with gladness to sing, Legolas Elvellon. So I sing to everything. Even my beautiful arrows."
They were indeed beautiful arrows. He crafted no black Orc arrows any longer, but fair, slim, pale ones, resembling the Elvish arrows his friend bore.
And now as his friend ran, miles behind, those fair Elvish arrows seemed a heavy burden to the one who bore them. The job they might be put to added an unwelcome weight on the heart of their bearer.
The trees in southern Mirkwood felt differently than the ones in the northern part where the Elves dwelt. Egla Ash was not the only one that could tell the difference. The Orcs about him would glance nervously in all directions as if expecting an attack, their eyes wide with fear. Those not holding weapons would reach for them, fingers caressing the cold metal of the scimitars. And the webs. Egla Ash shuddered trying to imagine a spider large enough to create such vast, thick sticky threads as graced the trees here. He had gone with Legolas once to hunt spiders. But they had not come upon any. Legolas had explained about the Great Spiders, descendants of Ungoliant herself. They still haunted Mirkwood, despite the best efforts of the Elves. He had told the Orc of the time that a strange group of Dwarves had come traipsing through Mirkwood on their way to the Lonely Mountain to regain what a dragon had stolen from them and managed to stir the spiders to vigorous activity. Other strange creature dwelt here as well: black squirrels, giant moths of grey and black, large bats. All in all not a pleasant place. Night was worse. Then the dark was oppressive and all encompassing, no light of stars or moon penetrated here. And though the Orcs lived under the night sky, even they were uneasy in this darkness. And the sounds of shuffling in the undergrowth, of movement in the bushes brought terror. Even Lumbule was feeling ill at ease and out of sorts.
"Are they sending an escort?" He growled, stumbling over unseen things under foot. "How can they expect us to arrive there in this cursed blackness?" His whip lashed at whatever Orc had the misfortune to be nearest.
They had gone some distance waiting for the muted light of day that struggled to break through the mass of black, twisted branches that blocked the sky.
"What was that?!" An Orc near Egla Ash gasped, jumping sideways in fear.
"Nothing, sluggard! Keep moving! Curse you!"
"Achas caun os ammen.
Lamath al ned gul
Tong delu nyw.
Or peleth gur."
[Fear clamors around us.
Voices not of our knowledge
Tighten a deadly noose
Over fading hearts.]
Through his own fear he smiled at the song. The Orcs' hearts were fading. What little bravery they may have possessed was fast fleeing as they neared the dark tower.
"There is something out there." The Orc hissed again, its head whipping from side to side, terror written clearly in all its movements.
"Its nothing. Keep moving!"
But then something did appear. It was monstrous and horrible, its many legs long and covered with hair. Multiple luminescent eyes glared at them from an impossible height.
Several of the Orcs screamed and ran into the trees, never to be seen again. The others huddled about, staring in fear and wonder at the Giant Spider. It contemplated them greedily. Then it began to speak in a thin hissing, creaking voice. It was calling to its kin. Noises above them caught their attention and several more of the spiders descended to the forest floor, hanging from thick ropes of thread.
Another Orc was overcome by its terror and tried to flee, but one of the spiders pounced on it and began to tie it in thick sticky webbing. The others watched horrified, too afraid to move yet wanting to run.
"Kill 'em now." One of the spiders hissed. "Kill 'em!"
"Aye. They make fine eatin' when they are dead."
"I prefer them alive and kickin'." Another hissed excitedly. "Them at that Tower don't feed us to well. I say we takes them now!"
The spiders closed in on the remaining Orcs, their comrade, now firmly encased in a thick bundle of webs, was hanging from a tree branch thrashing about wildly.
But just when Egla Ash thought that it would at least be better to die as a spider's dinner than have his soul die in becoming an Orc, a sharp voice called out of the gloom.
"Those are not yours, Breganc. The Shriekers would not be happy if you devoured their prey."
"We caughts them." The spiders hissed in displeasure. "They are ours!"
"Nay, foul things. Be gone. Others follow that you may have."
"Others?" The spiders looked at one another wondering if the Uruk- Hai was lying to them.
"Yes. An Elf and a Ranger. Lie in wait for them. These are expected." He turned to face Lumbule. "You are a sluggard in coming. They are not happy. Where is it?"
The others moved away from Egla Ash. The Uruk-Hai stared down at the Forsaken One. He gripped his face with strong fingers, forcing it up.
"Blue eyes." He laughed releasing him. "Well, Blue Eyes. Soon you'll be an Orc just like the rest of them. Move on out!"
The Orcs jumped forward and ran after the fleet Uruk-Hai. They could still hear the unfortunate Orc's cries as the spiders surrounded his dangling body.
New fear lanced through Egla Ash as they neared the end of their torturous journey. But beneath it all was a glimmer of hope. An Elf and a Ranger were following.
Legolas Elvellon, he thought, tears standing in his eyes. I knew you would come, my friend. And the Ranger. He knew that it must be the Dunadan. They were coming after him. But would they be in time? Evil creatures increased as they neared the tower, its foulness, choking the very air. There would be more Orcs, more Uruk-Hais. And the Shriekers. He felt a chill wave of horror flood him. He would not be able to withstand them.
I don't want to become like them. I don't want to join with the darkness, he thought desperately. He pulled on his bonds that the Uruk-Hai now held, feeling his raw skin tear even more, dark blood stained the ground.
The Uruk-Hai laughed and yanked on his bonds.
"Come on, Blue Eyes. Your future awaits."
Stumbling blindly Egla Ash approached Dol Guldur.
"Hold, Estel."
Legolas halted and stood very still, listening.
"There are spiders ahead. I can hear them."
Dunadan nodded, pulling his bow from his back and fitting it with an arrow. His heart was pounding after the long run and breathing here beneath these stifling trees was not easy. Legolas didn't seem as disturbed by the wood's oppression, but he had seen a flash of unease earlier. The Elves did not come this way and he knew that it was not easy for Thranduil's son to do so now. But determination drove them. They walked on without speaking, bows held at ready. At last Dunadan could also discern words in the air.
"There are only two of them. And they bear sharp arrows."
"Yes. But we will take them. We are all still hungry. So very hungry."
Dunadan shuddered glancing at Legolas. The Elf met his eyes and smiled tightly. They moved on. The Ranger looked at the webs in the branches above and grimaced.
By the time they heard the rustling in the trees overhead it was too late. A fat spider plopped down in front of them, fangs bared.
Both loosed their arrows and both found their mark. The spider shrieked as two of its eyes were pierced. More spiders dropped from the trees. Legolas and Dunadan fired volleys of arrows into the monster, but there were too many. The Ranger drew his sword and hacked the legs from the nearest spider, feeling the black blood splatter his face and clothing. Legolas had pulled his white knives from the sheaths on his back and was cutting a swath through the spiders. They screamed and gibbered at one another. They had not expected this much resistance from two such scrawny beings. A spider bore down on the Ranger, its mouth open, hissing in anger. Dunadan swiped at it, backing away. The spider jumped with unexpected agility and forced the man to the ground, its jaws moving for his throat. He stabbed upward, feeling the gush of blood as the blade pierced the beast's stomach. He pulled himself from beneath it before it fell. He stood in time to see Legolas blind one of them with a vicious slash of his knives. When the spiders withdrew slightly, the Ranger and the Elf ran leaving the wounded spiders behind.
As they ran Dunadan wiped a torn sleeve across his face, smearing the thick black blood. He cleaned his sword blade on a corner of his cloak. He noted with, some dismay, that neither he nor Legolas had many arrows left. He trailed behind the Elf, the oppression from the woods even heavier than before.
The trees here were dark and twisted, striving against one another, snakelike branches twined in a death grip. The stench was one of rottenness, rising from the darkness beneath the gnarled, stained trunks.
"Hurry, Estel." Legolas called, his own stride lengthening. "We must catch them soon or it will be too late."
The Ranger pounded after him, panting, his body beginning to protest.
But all too soon the trees thinned and a desolate landscape stretched away before them. They had reached Dol Guldur.
I hope to have such friends as this on the road I soon must travel, he thought, a smile tugging at his lips. His Rangers were such friends, fiercely loyal and devoted. He had given them leave to visit family and friends and then join him later at Rivendell. He himself had traveled to Lorien, there to speak with the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. He had meet also with someone not looked for. A smile touched lips and rested in his eyes as he ran south with Legolas.
"Arwen." He breathed, calling to mind the image of how she had looked as they had stood locked in one another's embrace atop Cerin Amroth, the emerald grass beneath their feet studded with elanor and niphredil. There under the Midsummer stars they had plighted their troth. Their happiness had been overwhelming. They had spoken briefly of the Shadow that was even now stretching across the land. And they spoke of the choice that the Evenstar must make. His heart burned with the love he felt for her. At times it made him feel as if he would burst asunder, so strong it was. His hands still felt the silken weight of her dark hair, netted with jewels like stars; its scent was intoxicating against his cheek.
"Arwen. Im mel le, nin Undomiel." [Arwen. I love you, my Evenstar.]
Their footfalls were muffled as they ran swiftly toward the south.
Legolas' own thoughts weren't as light and carefree. He berated himself for his slowness. The matter of mere minutes had turned the tide against them. If only he had come sooner upon the small escort Egla Ash would be free, not surrounded by his captors being lead away to a vile fate.
I cannot allow him to suffer this, he thought solemnly. But like the Ranger at his side he saw no hope of rescuing the Orc alive. This grieved him and it tore at his heart. But he would do what he must. He knew Egla Ash would rather die than become like his debased brethren. The arrow would fly if it must.
He recalled a song that Egla Ash had once made up.
"Revia nin celeg min
Gliri ned i gwelu.
Tog i ruien dad."
[Fly my swift one
Sing in the air.
Bring the hunted down.]
Legolas had laughed with delight and amusement.
"Even I don't sing to my arrows, mellon."
Egla Ash grunted happily and smiled, shrugging.
"It fills me with gladness to sing, Legolas Elvellon. So I sing to everything. Even my beautiful arrows."
They were indeed beautiful arrows. He crafted no black Orc arrows any longer, but fair, slim, pale ones, resembling the Elvish arrows his friend bore.
And now as his friend ran, miles behind, those fair Elvish arrows seemed a heavy burden to the one who bore them. The job they might be put to added an unwelcome weight on the heart of their bearer.
The trees in southern Mirkwood felt differently than the ones in the northern part where the Elves dwelt. Egla Ash was not the only one that could tell the difference. The Orcs about him would glance nervously in all directions as if expecting an attack, their eyes wide with fear. Those not holding weapons would reach for them, fingers caressing the cold metal of the scimitars. And the webs. Egla Ash shuddered trying to imagine a spider large enough to create such vast, thick sticky threads as graced the trees here. He had gone with Legolas once to hunt spiders. But they had not come upon any. Legolas had explained about the Great Spiders, descendants of Ungoliant herself. They still haunted Mirkwood, despite the best efforts of the Elves. He had told the Orc of the time that a strange group of Dwarves had come traipsing through Mirkwood on their way to the Lonely Mountain to regain what a dragon had stolen from them and managed to stir the spiders to vigorous activity. Other strange creature dwelt here as well: black squirrels, giant moths of grey and black, large bats. All in all not a pleasant place. Night was worse. Then the dark was oppressive and all encompassing, no light of stars or moon penetrated here. And though the Orcs lived under the night sky, even they were uneasy in this darkness. And the sounds of shuffling in the undergrowth, of movement in the bushes brought terror. Even Lumbule was feeling ill at ease and out of sorts.
"Are they sending an escort?" He growled, stumbling over unseen things under foot. "How can they expect us to arrive there in this cursed blackness?" His whip lashed at whatever Orc had the misfortune to be nearest.
They had gone some distance waiting for the muted light of day that struggled to break through the mass of black, twisted branches that blocked the sky.
"What was that?!" An Orc near Egla Ash gasped, jumping sideways in fear.
"Nothing, sluggard! Keep moving! Curse you!"
"Achas caun os ammen.
Lamath al ned gul
Tong delu nyw.
Or peleth gur."
[Fear clamors around us.
Voices not of our knowledge
Tighten a deadly noose
Over fading hearts.]
Through his own fear he smiled at the song. The Orcs' hearts were fading. What little bravery they may have possessed was fast fleeing as they neared the dark tower.
"There is something out there." The Orc hissed again, its head whipping from side to side, terror written clearly in all its movements.
"Its nothing. Keep moving!"
But then something did appear. It was monstrous and horrible, its many legs long and covered with hair. Multiple luminescent eyes glared at them from an impossible height.
Several of the Orcs screamed and ran into the trees, never to be seen again. The others huddled about, staring in fear and wonder at the Giant Spider. It contemplated them greedily. Then it began to speak in a thin hissing, creaking voice. It was calling to its kin. Noises above them caught their attention and several more of the spiders descended to the forest floor, hanging from thick ropes of thread.
Another Orc was overcome by its terror and tried to flee, but one of the spiders pounced on it and began to tie it in thick sticky webbing. The others watched horrified, too afraid to move yet wanting to run.
"Kill 'em now." One of the spiders hissed. "Kill 'em!"
"Aye. They make fine eatin' when they are dead."
"I prefer them alive and kickin'." Another hissed excitedly. "Them at that Tower don't feed us to well. I say we takes them now!"
The spiders closed in on the remaining Orcs, their comrade, now firmly encased in a thick bundle of webs, was hanging from a tree branch thrashing about wildly.
But just when Egla Ash thought that it would at least be better to die as a spider's dinner than have his soul die in becoming an Orc, a sharp voice called out of the gloom.
"Those are not yours, Breganc. The Shriekers would not be happy if you devoured their prey."
"We caughts them." The spiders hissed in displeasure. "They are ours!"
"Nay, foul things. Be gone. Others follow that you may have."
"Others?" The spiders looked at one another wondering if the Uruk- Hai was lying to them.
"Yes. An Elf and a Ranger. Lie in wait for them. These are expected." He turned to face Lumbule. "You are a sluggard in coming. They are not happy. Where is it?"
The others moved away from Egla Ash. The Uruk-Hai stared down at the Forsaken One. He gripped his face with strong fingers, forcing it up.
"Blue eyes." He laughed releasing him. "Well, Blue Eyes. Soon you'll be an Orc just like the rest of them. Move on out!"
The Orcs jumped forward and ran after the fleet Uruk-Hai. They could still hear the unfortunate Orc's cries as the spiders surrounded his dangling body.
New fear lanced through Egla Ash as they neared the end of their torturous journey. But beneath it all was a glimmer of hope. An Elf and a Ranger were following.
Legolas Elvellon, he thought, tears standing in his eyes. I knew you would come, my friend. And the Ranger. He knew that it must be the Dunadan. They were coming after him. But would they be in time? Evil creatures increased as they neared the tower, its foulness, choking the very air. There would be more Orcs, more Uruk-Hais. And the Shriekers. He felt a chill wave of horror flood him. He would not be able to withstand them.
I don't want to become like them. I don't want to join with the darkness, he thought desperately. He pulled on his bonds that the Uruk-Hai now held, feeling his raw skin tear even more, dark blood stained the ground.
The Uruk-Hai laughed and yanked on his bonds.
"Come on, Blue Eyes. Your future awaits."
Stumbling blindly Egla Ash approached Dol Guldur.
"Hold, Estel."
Legolas halted and stood very still, listening.
"There are spiders ahead. I can hear them."
Dunadan nodded, pulling his bow from his back and fitting it with an arrow. His heart was pounding after the long run and breathing here beneath these stifling trees was not easy. Legolas didn't seem as disturbed by the wood's oppression, but he had seen a flash of unease earlier. The Elves did not come this way and he knew that it was not easy for Thranduil's son to do so now. But determination drove them. They walked on without speaking, bows held at ready. At last Dunadan could also discern words in the air.
"There are only two of them. And they bear sharp arrows."
"Yes. But we will take them. We are all still hungry. So very hungry."
Dunadan shuddered glancing at Legolas. The Elf met his eyes and smiled tightly. They moved on. The Ranger looked at the webs in the branches above and grimaced.
By the time they heard the rustling in the trees overhead it was too late. A fat spider plopped down in front of them, fangs bared.
Both loosed their arrows and both found their mark. The spider shrieked as two of its eyes were pierced. More spiders dropped from the trees. Legolas and Dunadan fired volleys of arrows into the monster, but there were too many. The Ranger drew his sword and hacked the legs from the nearest spider, feeling the black blood splatter his face and clothing. Legolas had pulled his white knives from the sheaths on his back and was cutting a swath through the spiders. They screamed and gibbered at one another. They had not expected this much resistance from two such scrawny beings. A spider bore down on the Ranger, its mouth open, hissing in anger. Dunadan swiped at it, backing away. The spider jumped with unexpected agility and forced the man to the ground, its jaws moving for his throat. He stabbed upward, feeling the gush of blood as the blade pierced the beast's stomach. He pulled himself from beneath it before it fell. He stood in time to see Legolas blind one of them with a vicious slash of his knives. When the spiders withdrew slightly, the Ranger and the Elf ran leaving the wounded spiders behind.
As they ran Dunadan wiped a torn sleeve across his face, smearing the thick black blood. He cleaned his sword blade on a corner of his cloak. He noted with, some dismay, that neither he nor Legolas had many arrows left. He trailed behind the Elf, the oppression from the woods even heavier than before.
The trees here were dark and twisted, striving against one another, snakelike branches twined in a death grip. The stench was one of rottenness, rising from the darkness beneath the gnarled, stained trunks.
"Hurry, Estel." Legolas called, his own stride lengthening. "We must catch them soon or it will be too late."
The Ranger pounded after him, panting, his body beginning to protest.
But all too soon the trees thinned and a desolate landscape stretched away before them. They had reached Dol Guldur.