Chapter Fifteen
He woke at last. It was dark. Dark and musty. He swallowed thickly and felt water dripping onto his face. He tried to get up but fell down again. His wrists, legs and ankles were tied with cords. He realized he was a prisoner.
"But whose? And where am I?" He asked himself aloud, "Who am I?"
Slowly in his aching head, memory pieced itself together. He recalled the fight on the Dead Lands with the nasty Orcs and Wargs. The onslaught had ceased as quickly as it had started and the Orcs withdrew but something dark and terrible had arrived in their place.
He winced and pressed his head against the cool damp wall. Then, he recalled that he had used his magic powers to open a portal. He had thrusted two of his friends into the portal before the dark figure came upon him.
Somewhere at the back of his mind, something clicked...
The dark figure was the Hand of Morgoth and I am Lorgast. Yes, that's who I am! Lorgast, the Mage! His identity became clear to him.
He searched his memory to recollect what had happened to him after that. He remembered the wrath of the Dark Enemy when he realized that Callysta and Legolas had slipped from his clutches. His wrath was terrible to behold. For a while, he contested with the will of the Hand of Morgoth but alas! he was tired and much of his energy was spent when he created the portal. He lost his consciousness and fell into a deep abyss.
"But I am awake now and a prisoner of Morgoth! What ill luck!" He cursed. He wondered if Callysta and Legolas were safe. He also wondered what had happened to Laurëwen, if she was captured or had she escaped.
Four cells away, Laurëwen thought much the same about Lorgast. It was not weariness that had made her a captive but she was outpowered and outnumbered. The Orcs had handled her roughly for she was an Elf and she reminded them bitterly of their past, of who they once were. Although the Orcs had treated her with much malice, she was not badly bruised for Elves do not hurt easily and they heal faster.
The door to her cell creaked open and jolted her out of her reverie. Five large Orcs rambled in and seized her by her arms. They dragged her to her feet. One of the Orcs spat in her face.
"The Lord wants to take a gander at ya." The Orc said, "I'll wager he'll know what to do with fools like yerself!"
"Five seems to be too large a number to escort a fool." Laurëwen's words dripped sarcasm.
"A sharp tongue, eh! We'll see what happen to uppity Elves with tongues as sharp as swords!"
And so, Laurëwen was brought before the seat of the Dark Lord in his nethermost hall. The hall was lit by fire and filled with weapons of torment. Morgoth bent his gaze upon her and challenged her will but she was undaunted.
"She's not the Chosen One." Morgoth said, hissing.
"But she's one of the companions." The Hand of Morgoth, who stood at his side, spoke up.
Morgoth rose and coming up to her, he put his hand on her head and tried to read her thoughts but Laurëwen fought back and withheld from him their destination and their purpose. Long she battled against the will of Morgoth and finally, when he withdrew his hand, she fell to the ground, almost in a swoon.
"She's unyielding. Take her away and deal with that little stubborn streak in her. We shall make her talk yet." Morgoth said.
When Lorgast awoke the next day, he peered out of his cell window and saw that the sky was blood red. Outside his cell, there was a commotion among the Orcs. He crept towards the door and strained to hear what it was all about.
"Gah! I say we kill the two! The uppity Elf first and then, the Mage! We have no need for them anymore! Gondor has fallen! The Undead Ones have been awaken." Lorgast heard one of the Orcs saying.
"Not yet! We will wait for orders from the Lord himself! If you even dare pinch any of the prisoners, I will skin you!" Another Orc growled in reply.
Lorgast sank to his knees in disbelief. He glanced out of the window once more. The sky remained blood red.
The fall of Gondor...The White Tree is hewn...Lorgast thought, bitterly and he wept. After some time, he came to his wits again and found that all was quiet.
I must find a way out of here. Hope is slender but there is hope yet, Lorgast said to himself. He shut his eyes and recalled his magic. When he opened his eyes again, he found that he was free of his bonds.
He rose silently and peered out of his cell. An Orc on guard duty lay asleep in one corner. He stamped on the floor and started yelling to wake up the Orc. Finally, he succeeded. The Orc woke up with a start. He walked up to Lorgast's cell and pounded on the door with his great fist.
"What's all the racket?!" The Orc yelled, peering through the small window on the door. Lorgast seized his chance and cast a spell of charm upon the unsuspecting creature.
"Nai uuvanimo turamin!" The Mage cried. The spell worked and the Orc was held under his charm. Lorgast added slowly, "Open this door."
The Orc did as he was bid. Once Lorgast had escaped from his cell, he commanded the Orc to lead him to Laurëwen's cell. He found her huddled in a corner. Quickly, he rescued her but bid her not to ask any questions until they were out of the darkness. Lorgast then lay a spell of sleep over the Orc and the creature fell into deep slumber once more. After they seized some orc-weapons that were hung on the wall, they carefully made their way out of their prison.
Up the great stairway they plodded, finding a way out of the dungeons. The stairs took them to a wide and echoing passage, which led from the door towards the mountainside. It was dimly lit with the torches flaring in brackets on the wall.
All of a sudden, a bell sounded from the Tower and it was followed by a high and terrible wail. Horns answered in return. The escape of the prisoners had been discovered. Down the road from the gate Lorgast and Laurëwen fled. Ahead of them was the bridge but it was guarded. They had no hope of escape through that way. They had no choice but to leap down the sheer wall by the road. So, they plunged down the high rock-walls to the deep ravines below.
Once they had reached the bottom, they had a struggle to get out of the thicket. The thorns and briars were as tough as wires and as clinging as claws. Slowly and tediously, they clambered down, groping and stumbling along the rock and briar and dead wood in the blind shadows. Down and down they went until they could not go any further.
Hiding in the shadows of the rocks, they stopped and rested. When evening drew close, Lorgast began to scout around, searching for a path that would lead them out of the dreadful mountains.
He found that they were deep in the valley between the mountains. It sloped up gently northward and at its bottom was the bed of a now dry and withered stream. Beyond its stony course, they saw a beaten path that wound its way under the feet of the westward cliff. They followed it. The cliffs were overhung and they could not be seen from above. After following the path for some time, the path disappeared altogether.
"It's no good trying to go any further. We're as good as lost." Laurëwen said, but Lorgast would not give up just yet.
"Just a little further we may try. The path cannot just dry up like that." Lorgast urged her on.
After much wandering and searching, they found a way out. They came to a cleft between two dark crags and passing through found themselves on the edge of the last fence of Angband. Beyond them lay a great plain covered in a formless gloom.
They started descending the lower slopes of Mount Gundabad, the outer fence of Angband. It was slow and took all night. Ahead of them was a desert burned and choked. After crossing the desert, they came to the Langwell River. There were clusters of long low drab buildings and huts by the riverbanks. These were the dwellings of brave folks. These folks were descendants of Bard the Bowman, who were sundered from the folks in Dale. They were fierce people but they were also the enemy of the Dark and they welcomed Lorgast and Laurëwen.
At supper that night, Lorgast learned much of what had happened in the outside world while they were held captive in the Prison of Hell. A second assault on Gondor was made and the Dark proved mightier than the Light for Morgoth had gathered all his might and malice and sent them thither towards the assault on Gondor. The Men of Gondor had put a valiant resistance but Morgoth was a far greater evil than Sauron. He was the first Dark Lord, a Valar himself who had seen the creation of Arda but who had descended into darkness and treachery. Great might was his when Sauron was only a servant of Darkness.
"The White Tree is no more," the villagers said to Lorgast, "and indeed, a greater evil is brewing up in the Dark Lord's Tower."
Lorgast knew what they meant but he told them not what the greater evil was. His thoughts were bent always towards Callysta and Legolas and he wondered how they fared.
"Now that his Undead Ones have arisen, Morgoth will bend all his will towards finding the Chosen One. I wonder if Callysta is aware of the peril she's in." Lorgast told Laurëwen.