While her husband was being introduced to the terrors of Moria, Saryn and
Telvryn were waging their own desperate battle against hunger and thirst.
The food had run out two days ago; the water was gone by yesterday morning.
Only their stubborn, strong elvish wills had kept them going.
Telvryn was particularly worried about Saryn. Though she hadn't whispered a word of complaint, she was clearly deteriorating. Her formerly round face was now gaunt and wan. Her cheekbones stood in sharp relief against her pasty skin. Her hair, once as bright as the sun, was now dull and brittle. Worst of all, she was still limping badly. The swelling from her badly sprained knee and ankle was finally beginning to go down, but it was obvious that the injury would not heal completely until she received some badly needed Elvish medicine.
"Come Saryn, let us rest on this hummock while we can," he urged, pointing out the lumpy hillock rising out of the water.
"For what purpose?" she replied in a listless, disinterested voice. "We have neither food nor water, and if we do not escape this place by nightfall, we shall never do so."
He knew she was right. Both of them were growing steadily weaker, and their unwilling companion was delirious with fever. The bog water had seeped into his cuts, and within thirty-six hours, a raging infection had developed, his face swelling to twice its normal size. Two days ago, thick yellow pus erupted from his numerous cuts, coating his fevered, bloated face with a cool slime. Saryn had been caring for him until this morning, now too weak to even mop his brow. Nonetheless, he knew she could not continue like this.
Making a quick decision, he scooped her into his arms. She slapped ineffectually at his shoulders.
"Put me down," she whined.
"Absolutely not," he said. "You are too exhausted to walk on your own anymore; if you will not consent for your own sake, then do it for the sake of your unborn."
"But what if we should encounter another serpent?" she asked idly. She was too tired to put up more than a perfunctory fight.
"Then you shall quickly discover whether or not the bottom of this bog makes a suitable chair. Now stop worrying and rest yourself," he chided.
She dropped her head against his chest and was soon in a deep sleep. It was an excruciatingly exquisite sensation for Telvryn. For many days now, he had dreamed of holding her in his arms, albeit under much different circumstances. He shivered as he felt her soft breast rise and fall against his chest in time with her gentle breathing. He wondered what it would be like to caress those silky mounds with aching fingers, to lower his hot, eager mouth to her tiny rose nipples. He imagined the delicious feeling of slipping insider her satin folds and taking his pleasure from the tight sheath between her legs. He was panting with desire.
You could have that which you crave, said a soft, wheedling voice inside his head. She is weak, and there is no one here to see the deed. That which is not seen, is not done. Easy it would be to deceive her. Mayhap she would think you Legolas, for you rather resemble him. Take what you will. The bog will keep your secret.
His mind cringed in revulsion in horror at these barbarous thoughts, even as his body responded with a surge of lust so powerful it hurt. She could never be his, and he knew it, but he wanted her so badly. He wanted her to love and desire him the way he was growing to love and desire her. He wanted his name to be ever on her moist coral lips and emblazoned across her heart like brand. But it could not be, for her heart was already claimed by another, a prince no less. She would never return his love.
Oblivious to the torment raging above her, Saryn hovered between sleep and unconsciousness as her agonized body struggled to sustain the tiny life inside it. Calcium was leached from her bones and protein robbed from her muscles. Her heart pumped twice as fast in an effort to supply what grew within her with enough blood and oxygen. Already, there were four pinprick eyes and the delicate beginnings of four tiny, pointed ears. Not one, but two children slept in her womb.
She dreamed, but her dreams were distant and vague, filled with shadows and uneasiness. She thrashed and called out, then calmed again. Then suddenly there was a voice wrapped in the scent of wild strawberries. Legolas, she called in her mind.
What I wouldn't give to hold you in my arms one last time, the voice said. It was heartbroken, mournful. I'm sorry I could not keep my promise to return to you. Forgive me, my love. Then both the voice and the intoxicating, beloved smell retreated down the foggy corridors of her sleep- deprived mind. She awoke with a jolt.
"Legolas! Legolas!" she screamed, clawing and thrashing in Telvryn's arms like an unruly cat being forced into a tub of water.
Telvryn was so startled by this unexpected outburst that he dropped her into the bog. She hardly felt it. She scrambled to her feet as soon as she hit the ground. The pain in her leg, which had throbbed like a rotten tooth for four days, was now a distant memory. She looked at him with wild, desperate eyes.
"What has possessed you, woman?" asked Telvryn, worried that her mind had finally snapped under the strain of the journey.
"Legolas has called to me! I heard his voice inside my head, and he is in mortal danger! We must fly to him at once!" She spoke so quickly that the words tumbled and slurred over one another. She was dancing about in the water, her eyes glowing with urgency.
"What?" he asked, thoroughly confounded. "I do not understand. Calm yourself before you do us both more harm. Sit down and explain all."
She did not sit down. She could not. It was as if she had been plugged into an energy current. Her veins thrummed and crackled with a strange vitality. "I cannot," she nearly moaned.
"Are you sure it was he?"
"Of course I am certain," she barked. I know his voice and his scent better than I know my own name." She was stamping her feet in the knee- high water like an impatient stallion.
"Alright, alright, peace," he soothed, holding up his hands, "but even if it was, we shall reach him no sooner."
"Yes we shall. I will not rest until we have crossed beyond this terrible place, do you hear?"
"What of me and Cerek? We cannot go at the pace you intend."
"I would leave you both behind if I could but reach him faster," she spat. Realization of what she had said dawned on her face, and she let out a miserable groan. "No, no I would not. Forgive me, for I know not of what I speak."
He looked at her speculatively for a moment before he answered. "I know," he said at last, enfolding her in a soft hug. "All is forgiven. Do not trouble yourself."
She smiled gratefully at him, an image he would forever hold in his heart, then knelt down beside Cerek. "How long will he last?" she asked fretfully, dabbing at his pus-coated face with the hem of her gown.
"A day, maybe two," he said softly, turning his head away. He felt responsible for the young elf's suffering. He had, after all, caused the cuts upon his face. "I could give him a merciful death."
"Never!" she retorted, horrified. "Where there is life, there is hope."
She fussed over the groaning elf, wiping clumps of sweat-laden, pus- clotted hair from his burning face. His rheumy, red eyes looked at her with no recognition. His purple lips were cracked and blistered. The pus had changed from a bright yellow to a filmy green, another sign that he was not long for this world. She splashed cool bog water on his boiling forehead, knowing it was unwise but wanting his last hours to be comfortable.
"He is dying," she said. "Nothing can stop that now, but I will not let one of my people die in this vile place. Come. We must hurry."
She grabbed the frayed leather strap and pulled Cerek behind her, moving through the water at a breakneck pace. She wasn't sure where this sudden burst of energy had come from, but she intended to put it to good use. Her eyes, once blurred by exhaustion, were sharp and crisp. Her legs were light and free. Maybe when Legolas had reached out to her, she had tapped into his boundless vitality. Whatever the case, she was flying.
They had gone three miles, when she stopped in her tracks. Something was different here. The air crackled with a foreboding power. The hair on the nape of her neck prickled in anticipation. Whatever guards the bog, it's here, she thought as she spun around in a slow circle.
"We should not be here," Telvryn said slowly. "There is something evil here. We should leave."
"And go where? Before us lies a dead end, and behind us there is only death."
She was right. The path in front of them was choked with flabby tubers, thorns, and diseased mangroves. It was a dead end. Whatever the guardian of the bog was, it intended to meet them here. She scanned the flat water but saw nothing; yet the odd power swirling in the air had intensified.
There was a soft hiss like the rustling of dry leaves from behind them, and she knew before she turned around what she would find. Basylis, the great horned cobra, was looming over them, his eyeless sockets pointed at them. His rancid, forked tongue flickered out to taste the air. The beast was even more frightening than Telvryn had described. Fifty feet of spongy gray bone sparsely covered by slimy, festering patches of black skin. Boils erupted from his back and maggots crawled sluggishly around his empty black eye sockets. She could see bits of putrid brains clinging to the inside of the skull.
Saryn did something she had not done in many a year. She opened her mouth and screamed in abject terror, a bone-chilling, ululating howl that went on and on. Telvryn must have shared her feelings, because he joined her, their screams reverberating through the swamp. The colossal serpent never moved; it simply looked at them. Even without eyes, it seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.
When the screams died away, the trio regarded each other in silence. Cerek was drooling incoherently on his raft. For one giddy moment, Saryn thought the giant snake would not attack. Then the reeking, scabarous remnants of his hood flapped outward, sending down a draft of noisome air. Its bony body tensed, and it lashed out at Saryn with terrifying speed.
She threw herself sideways, and the serpent's jagged fangs narrowly missed her stomach. She scrabbled away, her heart thumping so wildly in her chest that she could feel her pulse thudding in her eardrums. Telvryn had shot several arrows at the creature, but most of them bounced of the bare bones. Those that found skin struck home with no effect. Oh Elbereth, we cannot defeat that which Death himself cannot conquer, she thought.
Give him what he wants, said a gentle voice she had never heard before. It seemed to be coming from inside and outside of her head at the same time.
I don't understand, she thought.
Give him what he wants, the voice repeated.
I don't know what he wants.
Yes you do. He wants what you want.
To be with Legolas? She was nonplussed.
No.
But that is what I want.
Yes. But you also desire something greater.
Her mind raced as she tried desperately to decipher the cryptic message. The serpent was undulating over a weakening Telvryn.
Why do you want to be with Legolas? the voice asked patiently.
Because he is my husband, and when I am with him there is no fear.
So you want the fear to end?
Yes! I want the fear to end. I want the whole nightmare to end.
So it is with Basylis.
But-she began, but then she stopped. She didn't need to ask that question anymore. She understood. She understood everything.
There was a thud followed by a wet snap, and Telvryn sailed through the air to land a few feet to her right. His left arm was twisted at an impossible angle, broken in two places. He writhed in agony for an instant before going still, overcome with the pain. She was alone.
"I can give you what you most crave, Lord Basylis," she called.
The great snake stopped its advance and fixed her with its sightless eyes. "How could such a whelp of an elf know of that which I desire?" he scoffed, and made to strike.
"You wish to be free of this miserable place. I can grant you that wish."
"You? How?" His demeanor was still truculent, but she could hear a note of sullen eagerness in his voice.
"Come closer, Lord Basylis, and I will show you."
The bony head of the beast drew lower and lower until she was gazing into the pits of its eyes. So close, the stench of decay threatened to overwhelm her. She bit her cheek to suppress her rising gorge.
"Well?" demanded the snake. "How will you set me free?"
"Like this," she said, and jammed her sword into the remnants of his brain.
The snake shuddered, its mouth opening in a soundless scream. It flopped onto its side with a watery squelch. It convulsed, splattering her with flecks of skin and water. Then it grew still. The massive head lolled in her direction.
"Thank you," he said, and then he was gone.
She sank to her knees, all her strength sapped. When she was certain she could make it, she crawled over to where Telvryn lay. He looked terrible. He was deathly pale, and his eyes were fluttering rapidly.
"Telvryn, get up," she urged. "Get up. I cannot carry you."
He groaned and opened his eyes. The pain in his arm exploded again, and he stifled a scream. "What happened?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Basylis is dead. Hurry, we must leave before the opening closes again."
She crawled dispiritedly toward the aforementioned opening, a three- foot sliver of light that had appeared immediately upon the great serpent's death. She could hear Telvryn groaning and weeping as he dragged Cerek along, his broken bones grinding together with every step. She forced herself to focus on the ever-nearing doorway to freedom, hyperventilating with desperation. She was unaware that she was chanting her husband's name as she moved, a sacred mantra against the oblivion that threatened to snatch their victory from her hands.
Three feet. Elbereth, everything hurt.
Two feet. Please. Please.
One foot. Just a little more.
Something around her neck snagged on the thorns surrounding the path. She wrenched and pawed at her neck until the resistance was gone, then staggered to her feet.
The group lurched onward for another half-mile before collapsing one by one within a few feet of one another. Unbeknownst to them, they had veered east instead of continuing south, a mistake that would save their lives.
Back in the dense underbrush, a silver pendant glittered in the light of the rising moon.
Telvryn was particularly worried about Saryn. Though she hadn't whispered a word of complaint, she was clearly deteriorating. Her formerly round face was now gaunt and wan. Her cheekbones stood in sharp relief against her pasty skin. Her hair, once as bright as the sun, was now dull and brittle. Worst of all, she was still limping badly. The swelling from her badly sprained knee and ankle was finally beginning to go down, but it was obvious that the injury would not heal completely until she received some badly needed Elvish medicine.
"Come Saryn, let us rest on this hummock while we can," he urged, pointing out the lumpy hillock rising out of the water.
"For what purpose?" she replied in a listless, disinterested voice. "We have neither food nor water, and if we do not escape this place by nightfall, we shall never do so."
He knew she was right. Both of them were growing steadily weaker, and their unwilling companion was delirious with fever. The bog water had seeped into his cuts, and within thirty-six hours, a raging infection had developed, his face swelling to twice its normal size. Two days ago, thick yellow pus erupted from his numerous cuts, coating his fevered, bloated face with a cool slime. Saryn had been caring for him until this morning, now too weak to even mop his brow. Nonetheless, he knew she could not continue like this.
Making a quick decision, he scooped her into his arms. She slapped ineffectually at his shoulders.
"Put me down," she whined.
"Absolutely not," he said. "You are too exhausted to walk on your own anymore; if you will not consent for your own sake, then do it for the sake of your unborn."
"But what if we should encounter another serpent?" she asked idly. She was too tired to put up more than a perfunctory fight.
"Then you shall quickly discover whether or not the bottom of this bog makes a suitable chair. Now stop worrying and rest yourself," he chided.
She dropped her head against his chest and was soon in a deep sleep. It was an excruciatingly exquisite sensation for Telvryn. For many days now, he had dreamed of holding her in his arms, albeit under much different circumstances. He shivered as he felt her soft breast rise and fall against his chest in time with her gentle breathing. He wondered what it would be like to caress those silky mounds with aching fingers, to lower his hot, eager mouth to her tiny rose nipples. He imagined the delicious feeling of slipping insider her satin folds and taking his pleasure from the tight sheath between her legs. He was panting with desire.
You could have that which you crave, said a soft, wheedling voice inside his head. She is weak, and there is no one here to see the deed. That which is not seen, is not done. Easy it would be to deceive her. Mayhap she would think you Legolas, for you rather resemble him. Take what you will. The bog will keep your secret.
His mind cringed in revulsion in horror at these barbarous thoughts, even as his body responded with a surge of lust so powerful it hurt. She could never be his, and he knew it, but he wanted her so badly. He wanted her to love and desire him the way he was growing to love and desire her. He wanted his name to be ever on her moist coral lips and emblazoned across her heart like brand. But it could not be, for her heart was already claimed by another, a prince no less. She would never return his love.
Oblivious to the torment raging above her, Saryn hovered between sleep and unconsciousness as her agonized body struggled to sustain the tiny life inside it. Calcium was leached from her bones and protein robbed from her muscles. Her heart pumped twice as fast in an effort to supply what grew within her with enough blood and oxygen. Already, there were four pinprick eyes and the delicate beginnings of four tiny, pointed ears. Not one, but two children slept in her womb.
She dreamed, but her dreams were distant and vague, filled with shadows and uneasiness. She thrashed and called out, then calmed again. Then suddenly there was a voice wrapped in the scent of wild strawberries. Legolas, she called in her mind.
What I wouldn't give to hold you in my arms one last time, the voice said. It was heartbroken, mournful. I'm sorry I could not keep my promise to return to you. Forgive me, my love. Then both the voice and the intoxicating, beloved smell retreated down the foggy corridors of her sleep- deprived mind. She awoke with a jolt.
"Legolas! Legolas!" she screamed, clawing and thrashing in Telvryn's arms like an unruly cat being forced into a tub of water.
Telvryn was so startled by this unexpected outburst that he dropped her into the bog. She hardly felt it. She scrambled to her feet as soon as she hit the ground. The pain in her leg, which had throbbed like a rotten tooth for four days, was now a distant memory. She looked at him with wild, desperate eyes.
"What has possessed you, woman?" asked Telvryn, worried that her mind had finally snapped under the strain of the journey.
"Legolas has called to me! I heard his voice inside my head, and he is in mortal danger! We must fly to him at once!" She spoke so quickly that the words tumbled and slurred over one another. She was dancing about in the water, her eyes glowing with urgency.
"What?" he asked, thoroughly confounded. "I do not understand. Calm yourself before you do us both more harm. Sit down and explain all."
She did not sit down. She could not. It was as if she had been plugged into an energy current. Her veins thrummed and crackled with a strange vitality. "I cannot," she nearly moaned.
"Are you sure it was he?"
"Of course I am certain," she barked. I know his voice and his scent better than I know my own name." She was stamping her feet in the knee- high water like an impatient stallion.
"Alright, alright, peace," he soothed, holding up his hands, "but even if it was, we shall reach him no sooner."
"Yes we shall. I will not rest until we have crossed beyond this terrible place, do you hear?"
"What of me and Cerek? We cannot go at the pace you intend."
"I would leave you both behind if I could but reach him faster," she spat. Realization of what she had said dawned on her face, and she let out a miserable groan. "No, no I would not. Forgive me, for I know not of what I speak."
He looked at her speculatively for a moment before he answered. "I know," he said at last, enfolding her in a soft hug. "All is forgiven. Do not trouble yourself."
She smiled gratefully at him, an image he would forever hold in his heart, then knelt down beside Cerek. "How long will he last?" she asked fretfully, dabbing at his pus-coated face with the hem of her gown.
"A day, maybe two," he said softly, turning his head away. He felt responsible for the young elf's suffering. He had, after all, caused the cuts upon his face. "I could give him a merciful death."
"Never!" she retorted, horrified. "Where there is life, there is hope."
She fussed over the groaning elf, wiping clumps of sweat-laden, pus- clotted hair from his burning face. His rheumy, red eyes looked at her with no recognition. His purple lips were cracked and blistered. The pus had changed from a bright yellow to a filmy green, another sign that he was not long for this world. She splashed cool bog water on his boiling forehead, knowing it was unwise but wanting his last hours to be comfortable.
"He is dying," she said. "Nothing can stop that now, but I will not let one of my people die in this vile place. Come. We must hurry."
She grabbed the frayed leather strap and pulled Cerek behind her, moving through the water at a breakneck pace. She wasn't sure where this sudden burst of energy had come from, but she intended to put it to good use. Her eyes, once blurred by exhaustion, were sharp and crisp. Her legs were light and free. Maybe when Legolas had reached out to her, she had tapped into his boundless vitality. Whatever the case, she was flying.
They had gone three miles, when she stopped in her tracks. Something was different here. The air crackled with a foreboding power. The hair on the nape of her neck prickled in anticipation. Whatever guards the bog, it's here, she thought as she spun around in a slow circle.
"We should not be here," Telvryn said slowly. "There is something evil here. We should leave."
"And go where? Before us lies a dead end, and behind us there is only death."
She was right. The path in front of them was choked with flabby tubers, thorns, and diseased mangroves. It was a dead end. Whatever the guardian of the bog was, it intended to meet them here. She scanned the flat water but saw nothing; yet the odd power swirling in the air had intensified.
There was a soft hiss like the rustling of dry leaves from behind them, and she knew before she turned around what she would find. Basylis, the great horned cobra, was looming over them, his eyeless sockets pointed at them. His rancid, forked tongue flickered out to taste the air. The beast was even more frightening than Telvryn had described. Fifty feet of spongy gray bone sparsely covered by slimy, festering patches of black skin. Boils erupted from his back and maggots crawled sluggishly around his empty black eye sockets. She could see bits of putrid brains clinging to the inside of the skull.
Saryn did something she had not done in many a year. She opened her mouth and screamed in abject terror, a bone-chilling, ululating howl that went on and on. Telvryn must have shared her feelings, because he joined her, their screams reverberating through the swamp. The colossal serpent never moved; it simply looked at them. Even without eyes, it seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.
When the screams died away, the trio regarded each other in silence. Cerek was drooling incoherently on his raft. For one giddy moment, Saryn thought the giant snake would not attack. Then the reeking, scabarous remnants of his hood flapped outward, sending down a draft of noisome air. Its bony body tensed, and it lashed out at Saryn with terrifying speed.
She threw herself sideways, and the serpent's jagged fangs narrowly missed her stomach. She scrabbled away, her heart thumping so wildly in her chest that she could feel her pulse thudding in her eardrums. Telvryn had shot several arrows at the creature, but most of them bounced of the bare bones. Those that found skin struck home with no effect. Oh Elbereth, we cannot defeat that which Death himself cannot conquer, she thought.
Give him what he wants, said a gentle voice she had never heard before. It seemed to be coming from inside and outside of her head at the same time.
I don't understand, she thought.
Give him what he wants, the voice repeated.
I don't know what he wants.
Yes you do. He wants what you want.
To be with Legolas? She was nonplussed.
No.
But that is what I want.
Yes. But you also desire something greater.
Her mind raced as she tried desperately to decipher the cryptic message. The serpent was undulating over a weakening Telvryn.
Why do you want to be with Legolas? the voice asked patiently.
Because he is my husband, and when I am with him there is no fear.
So you want the fear to end?
Yes! I want the fear to end. I want the whole nightmare to end.
So it is with Basylis.
But-she began, but then she stopped. She didn't need to ask that question anymore. She understood. She understood everything.
There was a thud followed by a wet snap, and Telvryn sailed through the air to land a few feet to her right. His left arm was twisted at an impossible angle, broken in two places. He writhed in agony for an instant before going still, overcome with the pain. She was alone.
"I can give you what you most crave, Lord Basylis," she called.
The great snake stopped its advance and fixed her with its sightless eyes. "How could such a whelp of an elf know of that which I desire?" he scoffed, and made to strike.
"You wish to be free of this miserable place. I can grant you that wish."
"You? How?" His demeanor was still truculent, but she could hear a note of sullen eagerness in his voice.
"Come closer, Lord Basylis, and I will show you."
The bony head of the beast drew lower and lower until she was gazing into the pits of its eyes. So close, the stench of decay threatened to overwhelm her. She bit her cheek to suppress her rising gorge.
"Well?" demanded the snake. "How will you set me free?"
"Like this," she said, and jammed her sword into the remnants of his brain.
The snake shuddered, its mouth opening in a soundless scream. It flopped onto its side with a watery squelch. It convulsed, splattering her with flecks of skin and water. Then it grew still. The massive head lolled in her direction.
"Thank you," he said, and then he was gone.
She sank to her knees, all her strength sapped. When she was certain she could make it, she crawled over to where Telvryn lay. He looked terrible. He was deathly pale, and his eyes were fluttering rapidly.
"Telvryn, get up," she urged. "Get up. I cannot carry you."
He groaned and opened his eyes. The pain in his arm exploded again, and he stifled a scream. "What happened?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Basylis is dead. Hurry, we must leave before the opening closes again."
She crawled dispiritedly toward the aforementioned opening, a three- foot sliver of light that had appeared immediately upon the great serpent's death. She could hear Telvryn groaning and weeping as he dragged Cerek along, his broken bones grinding together with every step. She forced herself to focus on the ever-nearing doorway to freedom, hyperventilating with desperation. She was unaware that she was chanting her husband's name as she moved, a sacred mantra against the oblivion that threatened to snatch their victory from her hands.
Three feet. Elbereth, everything hurt.
Two feet. Please. Please.
One foot. Just a little more.
Something around her neck snagged on the thorns surrounding the path. She wrenched and pawed at her neck until the resistance was gone, then staggered to her feet.
The group lurched onward for another half-mile before collapsing one by one within a few feet of one another. Unbeknownst to them, they had veered east instead of continuing south, a mistake that would save their lives.
Back in the dense underbrush, a silver pendant glittered in the light of the rising moon.