A/N I just wanted to thank all of you again for the wonderful reviews.
After the last chapter I was feeling a bit burnt out, but all your kind
words really got me going again. And so without further adieu – Chapter
IX.
Disclaimer: all characters, settings, and elvish language are strictly from the mind of J.R.R. Tolkien or inspired by him.
1 Chapter IX
2 Minas Morgul
Gimli, son of Gloin, sat cross-legged on the stone floor staring fixedly at the elf in front of him. The elf stared back and did not blink. The dwarf was not certain if the elf was sleeping or was stubbornly refusing to lower his gaze. Whichever the case, it did not matter. Gimli would not be the first to break the stare. His eyes had stopped their watering some time ago, and Gimli wondered if they were not now permanently glued open.
He had been in this room for two days now. There was no open window, but years of living in underground caverns had given the dwarves a sense of time even without the aid of the sun. Outside the sun had just set into the west and the world was falling into darkness. Inside there was little improvement. The only light afforded him was a small torch set high up on the wall. With nothing decorating any of the walls there were no footholds with which to climb up and retrieve it. The only furnishing was a single chair, and even that was not high enough to bring the torch within the dwarf's reach.
They had brought him water, but nothing else since they arrived. The dwarf's stomach continuously grumbled in irritation at the lack of sustenance. Of course, why provide him with food if they had every intention of killing him once they caught the elf-prince.
Legolas. The dwarf had wondered at how his friend would react to the news of his abduction. Gimli was reasonably sure that the elf would try to find him, but the dwarf hoped that Faramir had sense enough to lock him up in the dungeons below Minas Mallen with several armed Rangers as his guard. That damn fool elf would probably walk right into this trap without anyone to make him see reason. Gimli often speculated as to how Legolas had managed to survive all his long years without his aid. Still, it was lucky for the elf that Gimli, son of Gloin, had come along just when things started getting hairy with the fellowship and the quest and the battles.
Gimli had often questioned Legolas about his doings in Mirkwood before they met up, but the elf was not very forthcoming about his life in his father's kingdom. Actually he was not very forthcoming about anything. As near as he could tell the wood elves spent their days hunting the occasional orc band that happened into their neck of the woods, throwing parties, singing silly elf songs about Elbereth and Luthien and Beren, and imprisoning innocent dwarves who were minding their own business and just trying to get through their awful forest. Sometimes Gimli felt like he was back in the mines digging, and for all his hard labor he found only the occasional gem or small nugget of ore. Blast all elves and their annoying mysterious ways!
The elf blinked suddenly and sat up straighter in his chair. So he had been asleep. No matter, thought the dwarf, escape would have been impossible. The slightest movement by him would have roused the elf into wakefulness. Still, it meant the elf had been sleeping on the job. "Did you have a nice nap?" asked the dwarf in an insulting tone. "Have no fear, I was awake the entire time."
The elf sneered down at him, "There is nothing here for me to fear. It is you who should be afraid."
"Ha!" the dwarf stood and moved forward. The elf immediately drew his long knife, but Gimli purposefully walked forward to stand directly in front of him, "I am not stupid, dark elf. I am the bait to bring Legolas. You cannot afford to kill me, but you are stupid if you think Legolas will simply walk into this trap."
The elf moved the blade until the point was nearly resting on Gimli's left eyeball, "All Thranduil's son knows is that you have been captured by us. He has already left Amon Galen in search of you. All we have to do is wait for him, but you are of no more use to us."
Gimli did not flinch nor back away but instead stared into the elf's dark eyes with all the courage he could muster, "I do not claim to know how or why, but Legolas would know if I were to fall. He would sense it, and he would then have no reason to come here. You know this, or else you would have killed me before now. I may be your prisoner, but it is not time for me to die just yet. So why don't you put away your blade, we both know you cannot use it."
The elf rose to his full height, but the blade did not waver. Gimli stood his ground. Finally the elf put the blade away, but before Gimli could react the elf backhanded him. The dwarf stumbled but did not fall, and yet he was unable to gather himself to ward off the next blow. The elf grabbed him by the arms and flung him headfirst into the stone wall of the cell. His head hit with a resounding thud, and Gimli's ears rang. He crumpled to the floor, but the elf dragged his limp body away from the wall. Straddling him the elf pinned the dwarf's arms down then pulled out his blade again. Taking the whole of Gimli's thick beard in his hand the elf began to saw away at it. Gimli struggled against him, but his head had become groggy, and the elf was strong despite his wiry frame. Within moments the sharp blade had removed the majority of Gimli's facial hair.
Holding what he had removed of Gimli's beard high above the dwarf's head the elf stared down at him with a coldness in his eyes, "Elven blades are sharp, but thick dwarf beards might slow the blade." He slowly opened his hand, and the strands of what had been Gimli's beard fell in clumps on the dwarf's face, "I would not want this to get in the way when I come to slit your throat."
Wiping his hands of the last hairs the elf stood, "The sight of your face has sickened me. I must go to find rest where dwarven ugliness does not taint my eyesight." The elf turned and left the room, barring the door shut from the other side.
With a groan Gimli rolled over and sat up. His eyesight was bleary, and he felt nausea creeping up. Wiping the remaining hairs away from his face he put a hand to his chin. One or two inches of wiry hairs was all that remained of his once thick, luxurious beard.
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Legolas peered out from behind a large oak tree to stare at the four roads that came together in front of him. In the middle of the crossroads was a large statue of Elendil sitting on his throne. His hands rested on the arms of his seat, and his eyes stared westward into the heart of Gondor. Set in a large ring surrounding the crossroads itself were large oak trees; taller than the statue they encircled. Besides that there was nothing else to be seen, and the elf-prince did not sense any immediate danger. There was evil. He could sense it, but it was hidden or far away. He stepped out from behind the tree and approached the figure of Elendil.
He had come to this place many times since the War of the Ring, but now with the westering sun he was reminded of the Ringbearer's story. Frodo had stood here and watched the setting sun cast its last rays on the statue and it's head, which had been removed by the orcs and left on the roadside. The elves of Edhil-e-londe, with the help of the men of Ithilien, had repaired the damage caused by the orcs and restored the statue to its former glory, but Legolas did not see this. Instead, he was picturing the severed head lying on the ground and it occurred to him that this might be his own fate.
Shaking the dark thought from his mind he stepped out from behind the oak and raised one arm high into the air. This was the sign for Tolmoth to begin searching the roads for evidence of any recent travelers. The Dunadan moved from behind another of the oaks and began to walk the edges of the four roads. His keen eyes searched the dust in the roads for prints. After he had walked the length of each road he began moving in a great circle that came closer and closer to the statue of Elendil with each passing. When he had arrived at the foot of the ancient king of Gondor he raised his hand as Legolas had done, and the others of their company emerged from the surrounding trees and met him in the center of the crossroads.
Tolmoth spoke first. "There was a large host of horses that passed this way four days ago. The horses were unshod in the manner of the elves. They came from the south and turned east towards Minas Morgul. They have made no attempt to disguise their tracks," the Dunadan looked pointedly at Legolas, "but why hide your passing if you want to be followed. I can find no sign of Danethil's company, but I am certain they would have interpreted the trail as I have, and that would have led them here, and then to the east."
Legolas nodded, as did Boromir. He turned to the captain of his own guard, "Aldaluin, what can you tell of this place?"
Aldaluin shook his head, "Not much, sire. This place is not evil, but yet there was great evil here. Whether this is recent or merely a shadow left by the Nazgul and their army I do not know. I sense greater danger on the road which leads into the east, but that is the way we must go if we intend to follow the Daequendi." Daequendi – 'Shadow elves' it meant in the common tongue. Since the attacks in Khazad-bizar the name had suddenly come into use. Legolas did not know who had invented the name, but it had stuck.
Boromir, looked the most troubled of all who were present, "Our foes have taken the road to Minas Morgul. Great evil still dwells in that place, and the evil sensed by Aldaluin may only be a remnant of that which abided there for so many years. But evil invites other evil, and Minas Morgul would prove an advantageous location to sit and wait for a foe to approach."
Boromir pointed towards the Ephel Duath whose dark slopes loomed ahead on the way the Daequendi had taken, "This road goes east, but curves south at the shoulder of that mountain you see yonder. When it comes to the east again it rises sharply to the edge of a great valley. On the other side lies Minas Morgul. Through some ancient wizardry that none yet remember the uppermost part of the tower rotates, and from its windows all of the valley can be seen. Sharp elven eyes could spot us long ere we arrived."
"Could we not make our path through the wilderness and so come into the valley unseen?" asked Firith.
Boromir shook his head, "We could take other paths until we reached the edge of the valley, but there the road cuts through a steep pass. The jagged peaks of the Ephel Duath lie on either side and neither horse nor man could traverse them for they are sheer cliffs with no footholds or even vegetation with which to climb them. There is only one way to enter the Morgul Valley from the east, and that way is undoubtedly watched."
Firith laughed light-heartedly in the manner of the elves and then leaped onto the statue of Elendil quickly finding his way onto the king's lap. "Perhaps the Ephel Duath cannot be crossed by man or beast, but elves walk lightly where men dare not tread."
Andru, one of the Dunadan, and the youngest of the group next to Boromir, glared angrily at the elf, "While you are up there why don't you start a fire and send smoke signals to the Daequendi announcing our arrival." Even before he had finished his sentence a dagger had planted itself in the ground at the Ranger's feet. To his credit Andru did not flinch at the blade, but this was not the first time one of Lalaith's deadly weapons had come within a hair of one of the Ranger's limbs. Andru's glare moved to the female elf and did not budge."
Lalaith calmly came towards him, bent down, and retrieved her knife, "I do not think you should be questioning Firith's abilities at stealth. Even if we are able to evade the eyes of our enemy the din you men create when you walk upon the earth will be enough to rouse every elf within Ithilien, dark or no."
Legolas sighed. The endless bickering between the elves and men was beginning to wear on him. Lalaith and Firith seemed to think it was their duty in life to insult the Rangers in every possible way, and Andru and Gerath could be easily baited. In a corner of the elf's mind it occurred to him that others might think the same about Gimli and himself, but he quickly dismissed the thought and took immediate action to stop the next argument. "Stop this pointless arguing. If we all would like to keep our heads then we must not lose our focus." Legolas looked to Andru, then Lalaith, and finally up at Firith, who sensing the mood of his lord quickly climbed down and joined the others.
Legolas turned to Boromir and his Rangers. "Know you any other path which leads to Minas Morgul?"
Tolmoth shook his head, "There is but one route into Minas Morgul from the east, Prince Legolas. But I would suggest we take the road north to the pass of Cirith Gorgor. From there we can enter Mordor, and traveling south we can take the pass of Cirith Ungol and so approach Minas Morgul from the east. I do not believe our enemy would expect this."
Legolas considered Tolmoth's plan. It was sound enough, but there was a warning in his heart that told him he should not tarry. "A good plan, Dunadan, but I dare not take the time. Gimli's captors could decide at any moment that the dwarf is of no more use to them and slay him. We must take the shortest route, and that is to go east."
Boromir spoke up, "That is madness, Legolas. You are walking directly into their trap. What use will they have for Gimli if they capture you? The dwarf will not draw another breath once you are within their grasp. It would be better to go around."
Legolas looked hard at Boromir. The young man was such a contradiction. On the one hand he was warning Legolas of rash behavior, but on the other Boromir himself had defied the orders of his father and prince and took a path of deadly peril. The practical influences of his father were often at war with the daring influences of his Uncle Eomer. At the moment Faramir was winning. "No, Boromir. Madness it may be, but my path lies east." The prince of the elves of Ithilien looked around at his company, "I cannot ask any of you to continue on this journey with me. In this you must listen to the counsel of your own hearts."
Boromir stepped forward and put his hand on Legolas's shoulder, "My path lies with you, my friend. Many times has my father said he trusts the feelings of elves more than the spoken truths of most men. If you feel we have need of haste then our path is set."
Aldaluin and Lalaith stepped forward and also pledged their assistance. Firith, stepped forward too, but with a twinkle in his eye said, "I shall follow you as well, my lord, but not only for your sake, but for the sake of my young friend Andru, who will undoubtedly be in need of rescuing ere we have finished our quest."
Andru's eyes smoldered at the elf's gibe, "And I shall follow you, Prince Legolas, in case the elves suddenly forget themselves. This one in particular is so easily distracted. I'd hate for us to be in the middle of battle when Firith suddenly has an uncontrollable desire to chase butterflies, or sing a song to a toadstool, or compose a poem about the color of the slime on a stone in the river."
Amazingly, Legolas was able to catch Lalaith's hand before another dagger could be thrown. Boromir and Gerath were stifling back their laughter, and Legolas glared at them with narrowed eyes. But he said nothing. Firith and Lalaith, as well as Andru, were some of Ithilien's finest warriors, and they would be needed in the hours ahead.
Only a twinkle in Tolmoth's gray eyes betrayed his silent laughter, but he recovered quickly, "Let us ride to the east. We will make camp under the shadow of the Ephel Duath until after sunset. The new moon will not rise until the hour just before dawn giving us the cover of darkness to cross the pass into the Morgul Valley. We must leave the horses behind here. On foot, with no moon, and wearing the cloaks made for us by Legolas's people we may yet enter the valley without notice."
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The western sky had blazed as though made of gold then it slowly cooled into pink, blue, and then violet. The land grew dark. Legolas watched as the stars slowly filled up the sky. Boromir and his men had taken rest in the few hours before nightfall, Lalaith and Firith lay side-by-side, eyes open, walking the world of elven dreams. Serewen had removed herself into the wood, as was her wont. Aldaluin had gone to search the pass for any sign of the enemy.
The evil that Legolas and Aldaluin had sensed had grown increasingly strong as they neared the Morgul Valley. The evil that had abided here not so long ago was almost palpable to the elves, and Legolas shuddered at the feel. Yet, there was something else. It seemed to him that there was another presence; an evil which was much older, and which bore more hatred and venom than the Nazgul. This ancient malevolence seemed to hang all about him, and though little in this world frightened him the strength of the hatred he felt filled him with dread. This was not an evil intent on destroying all that was good, it was intent on destroying him, and him alone.
He felt rather than heard the approach of Aldaluin. Legolas rose to face him and with a nod Aldaluin told him it was time to depart. Quickly they roused the men. Lalaith and Firith had awoken with the return of Aldaluin. Lalaith checked her daggers, which were concealed in every possible area of her raiment. A sword was strapped to her back, as were two long knives. A third hung at her waist. Firith, with a curved elven sword at his side, adjusted his quiver upon his back and tested his bowstring. The Dunedain had strapped on their swords and were donning their elven cloaks. Serewen appeared out of the woods, her elven blade still strapped at her waist, as was her long knife. With a quiver full of arrows and bow at his back Legolas led them silently up the final ascent to the pass that led into the Morgul Valley.
They walked single-file hugging the walls of the mountain as they rounded its shoulder and came within sight of the dark tower that had been home to the Nazgul. An eerie glow emanated from Minas Morgul. In the days before the Ringwraiths the tower had belonged to the men of Gondor, and was a defense against the forces of Mordor. In those days it had been called Minas Ithil, the Tower of the Moon, and it glowed with the moon's heavenly light. But the evil brought by the Nazgul and the foul orcs had tainted that light, making it wan and sickly, such that the whole valley appear bleached, as if it were part of the wraith world itself. From the uppermost tower a bright, yellow light issued forth from inside the citadel as if a single eye were casting its gaze about the valley, and the light moved as the tower slowly turned so that it appeared as if the eye were searching them out in the darkness.
The pass was not long and they were making their way down into the valley almost immediately. Boromir moved next to Legolas and whispered, "Can your eyes spy any person at the windows of that tower where the light is burning?" Legolas searched the windows, but could discern no shape or figure. The elf shook his head. Boromir dropped back and they continued their descent to the valley floor.
As they entered the valley the sense of evil grew. Not only the evil issuing forth from Minas Morgul, but also that evil that was directed toward Legolas. He felt as if unseen eyes were staring into his back, but when he turned to look there was only the men and elves of his company, and no enemy to be seen.
As soon as they were able they left the roadside and continued their journey under the cover of the trees and growth of the Ephel Duath. The way was slower, but the well-trained feet of the Dunedain and the skilled feet of the elves sped them along. With several hours to go before the rising of the moon they came to the foot of the valley where ran a small stream. The evil had grown stronger and stronger until Legolas's elven senses were screaming danger to him once again. Judging by the looks on the faces of Lalaith and Firith they sensed it as well. Aldaluin came to stand next to him. The fearsome glow coming from Minas Morgul gave just enough light for Legolas's keen eyes to see the look of warning in those of his captain. Aldaluin whispered so low that Legolas had to strain to hear him, "We are being watched." Legolas nodded his agreement. Turning he looked at Boromir and his men. The Rangers had loosened their swords in their scabbards, a sure sign they could sense trouble as well, and they appeared to be searching for something.
Boromir's face was grave and he moved to stand next to Legolas and Aldaluin, "Where is Serewen?"
Both elves turned to look behind them, but there was no sign of her. Legolas turned to go back when suddenly the sounds of many feet running could be heard from across the stream. Turning again he saw a band of orcs moving towards them. Firith's bow was already singing and orcs were falling before they could even cross the stream. The Dunedain, following Boromir, were rushing to meet the oncoming orcs, and Aldaluin and Lalaith ran with them. The hand of Lalaith flickered in the faint light and an orc went down, her dagger imbedded in its throat. Legolas grabbed the bow from his back and in one fluid movement had fitted arrow to string and then let loose. The orc fell even as he was reaching out to grab the sword arm of Andru.
The battle raged near the water. Lalaith had a long knife in each hand, and she was easily disemboweling any orcs who came within in her reach. A single orc had managed to come around behind Firith as he loosed his arrows, but Lalaith caught sight of him before Legolas could react. Shifting her knives to one hand, the now empty hand slipped inside her tunic. A flash was all that could be seen as the dagger flew from her hand and sliced deep into the orcs eye. His body fell twitching on the ground. Just as quickly the long knife was shuttled to her empty hand in time to swing down and catch an orc in the back.
The swords of the Dunedain flashed in the darkness, and the orc bodies were beginning to pile up at their feet. Across the small stream a large group of orcs were rushing straight at the Dunedain. Legolas checked his bow and swinging in their direction he let fly an arrow. The arrow hit the lead orc square between the eyes and also alerted Boromir and his men of their attack. Crying "Ithilien, Ithilien!" Boromir leapt over the bodies at his feet and blade swinging in a wide arc he fell amongst his enemies. The other Dunedain followed, as did Aldaluin wielding two swords in deadly fashion.
Legolas reached back into his quiver for another arrow, but suddenly felt a cold hand on his wrist. With incredible strength the hand pulled him backwards and a knife blade was suddenly at his throat. The blade bit into his skin, and the elf could feel warm droplets of blood trickling down his neck. Looking up he stared into dark eyes, and a voice as cold as steel whispered, "After thousands of years of waiting, I can now fulfill my oath. Look into my eyes, son of Thranduil, and see your doom."
Disclaimer: all characters, settings, and elvish language are strictly from the mind of J.R.R. Tolkien or inspired by him.
1 Chapter IX
2 Minas Morgul
Gimli, son of Gloin, sat cross-legged on the stone floor staring fixedly at the elf in front of him. The elf stared back and did not blink. The dwarf was not certain if the elf was sleeping or was stubbornly refusing to lower his gaze. Whichever the case, it did not matter. Gimli would not be the first to break the stare. His eyes had stopped their watering some time ago, and Gimli wondered if they were not now permanently glued open.
He had been in this room for two days now. There was no open window, but years of living in underground caverns had given the dwarves a sense of time even without the aid of the sun. Outside the sun had just set into the west and the world was falling into darkness. Inside there was little improvement. The only light afforded him was a small torch set high up on the wall. With nothing decorating any of the walls there were no footholds with which to climb up and retrieve it. The only furnishing was a single chair, and even that was not high enough to bring the torch within the dwarf's reach.
They had brought him water, but nothing else since they arrived. The dwarf's stomach continuously grumbled in irritation at the lack of sustenance. Of course, why provide him with food if they had every intention of killing him once they caught the elf-prince.
Legolas. The dwarf had wondered at how his friend would react to the news of his abduction. Gimli was reasonably sure that the elf would try to find him, but the dwarf hoped that Faramir had sense enough to lock him up in the dungeons below Minas Mallen with several armed Rangers as his guard. That damn fool elf would probably walk right into this trap without anyone to make him see reason. Gimli often speculated as to how Legolas had managed to survive all his long years without his aid. Still, it was lucky for the elf that Gimli, son of Gloin, had come along just when things started getting hairy with the fellowship and the quest and the battles.
Gimli had often questioned Legolas about his doings in Mirkwood before they met up, but the elf was not very forthcoming about his life in his father's kingdom. Actually he was not very forthcoming about anything. As near as he could tell the wood elves spent their days hunting the occasional orc band that happened into their neck of the woods, throwing parties, singing silly elf songs about Elbereth and Luthien and Beren, and imprisoning innocent dwarves who were minding their own business and just trying to get through their awful forest. Sometimes Gimli felt like he was back in the mines digging, and for all his hard labor he found only the occasional gem or small nugget of ore. Blast all elves and their annoying mysterious ways!
The elf blinked suddenly and sat up straighter in his chair. So he had been asleep. No matter, thought the dwarf, escape would have been impossible. The slightest movement by him would have roused the elf into wakefulness. Still, it meant the elf had been sleeping on the job. "Did you have a nice nap?" asked the dwarf in an insulting tone. "Have no fear, I was awake the entire time."
The elf sneered down at him, "There is nothing here for me to fear. It is you who should be afraid."
"Ha!" the dwarf stood and moved forward. The elf immediately drew his long knife, but Gimli purposefully walked forward to stand directly in front of him, "I am not stupid, dark elf. I am the bait to bring Legolas. You cannot afford to kill me, but you are stupid if you think Legolas will simply walk into this trap."
The elf moved the blade until the point was nearly resting on Gimli's left eyeball, "All Thranduil's son knows is that you have been captured by us. He has already left Amon Galen in search of you. All we have to do is wait for him, but you are of no more use to us."
Gimli did not flinch nor back away but instead stared into the elf's dark eyes with all the courage he could muster, "I do not claim to know how or why, but Legolas would know if I were to fall. He would sense it, and he would then have no reason to come here. You know this, or else you would have killed me before now. I may be your prisoner, but it is not time for me to die just yet. So why don't you put away your blade, we both know you cannot use it."
The elf rose to his full height, but the blade did not waver. Gimli stood his ground. Finally the elf put the blade away, but before Gimli could react the elf backhanded him. The dwarf stumbled but did not fall, and yet he was unable to gather himself to ward off the next blow. The elf grabbed him by the arms and flung him headfirst into the stone wall of the cell. His head hit with a resounding thud, and Gimli's ears rang. He crumpled to the floor, but the elf dragged his limp body away from the wall. Straddling him the elf pinned the dwarf's arms down then pulled out his blade again. Taking the whole of Gimli's thick beard in his hand the elf began to saw away at it. Gimli struggled against him, but his head had become groggy, and the elf was strong despite his wiry frame. Within moments the sharp blade had removed the majority of Gimli's facial hair.
Holding what he had removed of Gimli's beard high above the dwarf's head the elf stared down at him with a coldness in his eyes, "Elven blades are sharp, but thick dwarf beards might slow the blade." He slowly opened his hand, and the strands of what had been Gimli's beard fell in clumps on the dwarf's face, "I would not want this to get in the way when I come to slit your throat."
Wiping his hands of the last hairs the elf stood, "The sight of your face has sickened me. I must go to find rest where dwarven ugliness does not taint my eyesight." The elf turned and left the room, barring the door shut from the other side.
With a groan Gimli rolled over and sat up. His eyesight was bleary, and he felt nausea creeping up. Wiping the remaining hairs away from his face he put a hand to his chin. One or two inches of wiry hairs was all that remained of his once thick, luxurious beard.
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Legolas peered out from behind a large oak tree to stare at the four roads that came together in front of him. In the middle of the crossroads was a large statue of Elendil sitting on his throne. His hands rested on the arms of his seat, and his eyes stared westward into the heart of Gondor. Set in a large ring surrounding the crossroads itself were large oak trees; taller than the statue they encircled. Besides that there was nothing else to be seen, and the elf-prince did not sense any immediate danger. There was evil. He could sense it, but it was hidden or far away. He stepped out from behind the tree and approached the figure of Elendil.
He had come to this place many times since the War of the Ring, but now with the westering sun he was reminded of the Ringbearer's story. Frodo had stood here and watched the setting sun cast its last rays on the statue and it's head, which had been removed by the orcs and left on the roadside. The elves of Edhil-e-londe, with the help of the men of Ithilien, had repaired the damage caused by the orcs and restored the statue to its former glory, but Legolas did not see this. Instead, he was picturing the severed head lying on the ground and it occurred to him that this might be his own fate.
Shaking the dark thought from his mind he stepped out from behind the oak and raised one arm high into the air. This was the sign for Tolmoth to begin searching the roads for evidence of any recent travelers. The Dunadan moved from behind another of the oaks and began to walk the edges of the four roads. His keen eyes searched the dust in the roads for prints. After he had walked the length of each road he began moving in a great circle that came closer and closer to the statue of Elendil with each passing. When he had arrived at the foot of the ancient king of Gondor he raised his hand as Legolas had done, and the others of their company emerged from the surrounding trees and met him in the center of the crossroads.
Tolmoth spoke first. "There was a large host of horses that passed this way four days ago. The horses were unshod in the manner of the elves. They came from the south and turned east towards Minas Morgul. They have made no attempt to disguise their tracks," the Dunadan looked pointedly at Legolas, "but why hide your passing if you want to be followed. I can find no sign of Danethil's company, but I am certain they would have interpreted the trail as I have, and that would have led them here, and then to the east."
Legolas nodded, as did Boromir. He turned to the captain of his own guard, "Aldaluin, what can you tell of this place?"
Aldaluin shook his head, "Not much, sire. This place is not evil, but yet there was great evil here. Whether this is recent or merely a shadow left by the Nazgul and their army I do not know. I sense greater danger on the road which leads into the east, but that is the way we must go if we intend to follow the Daequendi." Daequendi – 'Shadow elves' it meant in the common tongue. Since the attacks in Khazad-bizar the name had suddenly come into use. Legolas did not know who had invented the name, but it had stuck.
Boromir, looked the most troubled of all who were present, "Our foes have taken the road to Minas Morgul. Great evil still dwells in that place, and the evil sensed by Aldaluin may only be a remnant of that which abided there for so many years. But evil invites other evil, and Minas Morgul would prove an advantageous location to sit and wait for a foe to approach."
Boromir pointed towards the Ephel Duath whose dark slopes loomed ahead on the way the Daequendi had taken, "This road goes east, but curves south at the shoulder of that mountain you see yonder. When it comes to the east again it rises sharply to the edge of a great valley. On the other side lies Minas Morgul. Through some ancient wizardry that none yet remember the uppermost part of the tower rotates, and from its windows all of the valley can be seen. Sharp elven eyes could spot us long ere we arrived."
"Could we not make our path through the wilderness and so come into the valley unseen?" asked Firith.
Boromir shook his head, "We could take other paths until we reached the edge of the valley, but there the road cuts through a steep pass. The jagged peaks of the Ephel Duath lie on either side and neither horse nor man could traverse them for they are sheer cliffs with no footholds or even vegetation with which to climb them. There is only one way to enter the Morgul Valley from the east, and that way is undoubtedly watched."
Firith laughed light-heartedly in the manner of the elves and then leaped onto the statue of Elendil quickly finding his way onto the king's lap. "Perhaps the Ephel Duath cannot be crossed by man or beast, but elves walk lightly where men dare not tread."
Andru, one of the Dunadan, and the youngest of the group next to Boromir, glared angrily at the elf, "While you are up there why don't you start a fire and send smoke signals to the Daequendi announcing our arrival." Even before he had finished his sentence a dagger had planted itself in the ground at the Ranger's feet. To his credit Andru did not flinch at the blade, but this was not the first time one of Lalaith's deadly weapons had come within a hair of one of the Ranger's limbs. Andru's glare moved to the female elf and did not budge."
Lalaith calmly came towards him, bent down, and retrieved her knife, "I do not think you should be questioning Firith's abilities at stealth. Even if we are able to evade the eyes of our enemy the din you men create when you walk upon the earth will be enough to rouse every elf within Ithilien, dark or no."
Legolas sighed. The endless bickering between the elves and men was beginning to wear on him. Lalaith and Firith seemed to think it was their duty in life to insult the Rangers in every possible way, and Andru and Gerath could be easily baited. In a corner of the elf's mind it occurred to him that others might think the same about Gimli and himself, but he quickly dismissed the thought and took immediate action to stop the next argument. "Stop this pointless arguing. If we all would like to keep our heads then we must not lose our focus." Legolas looked to Andru, then Lalaith, and finally up at Firith, who sensing the mood of his lord quickly climbed down and joined the others.
Legolas turned to Boromir and his Rangers. "Know you any other path which leads to Minas Morgul?"
Tolmoth shook his head, "There is but one route into Minas Morgul from the east, Prince Legolas. But I would suggest we take the road north to the pass of Cirith Gorgor. From there we can enter Mordor, and traveling south we can take the pass of Cirith Ungol and so approach Minas Morgul from the east. I do not believe our enemy would expect this."
Legolas considered Tolmoth's plan. It was sound enough, but there was a warning in his heart that told him he should not tarry. "A good plan, Dunadan, but I dare not take the time. Gimli's captors could decide at any moment that the dwarf is of no more use to them and slay him. We must take the shortest route, and that is to go east."
Boromir spoke up, "That is madness, Legolas. You are walking directly into their trap. What use will they have for Gimli if they capture you? The dwarf will not draw another breath once you are within their grasp. It would be better to go around."
Legolas looked hard at Boromir. The young man was such a contradiction. On the one hand he was warning Legolas of rash behavior, but on the other Boromir himself had defied the orders of his father and prince and took a path of deadly peril. The practical influences of his father were often at war with the daring influences of his Uncle Eomer. At the moment Faramir was winning. "No, Boromir. Madness it may be, but my path lies east." The prince of the elves of Ithilien looked around at his company, "I cannot ask any of you to continue on this journey with me. In this you must listen to the counsel of your own hearts."
Boromir stepped forward and put his hand on Legolas's shoulder, "My path lies with you, my friend. Many times has my father said he trusts the feelings of elves more than the spoken truths of most men. If you feel we have need of haste then our path is set."
Aldaluin and Lalaith stepped forward and also pledged their assistance. Firith, stepped forward too, but with a twinkle in his eye said, "I shall follow you as well, my lord, but not only for your sake, but for the sake of my young friend Andru, who will undoubtedly be in need of rescuing ere we have finished our quest."
Andru's eyes smoldered at the elf's gibe, "And I shall follow you, Prince Legolas, in case the elves suddenly forget themselves. This one in particular is so easily distracted. I'd hate for us to be in the middle of battle when Firith suddenly has an uncontrollable desire to chase butterflies, or sing a song to a toadstool, or compose a poem about the color of the slime on a stone in the river."
Amazingly, Legolas was able to catch Lalaith's hand before another dagger could be thrown. Boromir and Gerath were stifling back their laughter, and Legolas glared at them with narrowed eyes. But he said nothing. Firith and Lalaith, as well as Andru, were some of Ithilien's finest warriors, and they would be needed in the hours ahead.
Only a twinkle in Tolmoth's gray eyes betrayed his silent laughter, but he recovered quickly, "Let us ride to the east. We will make camp under the shadow of the Ephel Duath until after sunset. The new moon will not rise until the hour just before dawn giving us the cover of darkness to cross the pass into the Morgul Valley. We must leave the horses behind here. On foot, with no moon, and wearing the cloaks made for us by Legolas's people we may yet enter the valley without notice."
…………………………………………………………………………………
The western sky had blazed as though made of gold then it slowly cooled into pink, blue, and then violet. The land grew dark. Legolas watched as the stars slowly filled up the sky. Boromir and his men had taken rest in the few hours before nightfall, Lalaith and Firith lay side-by-side, eyes open, walking the world of elven dreams. Serewen had removed herself into the wood, as was her wont. Aldaluin had gone to search the pass for any sign of the enemy.
The evil that Legolas and Aldaluin had sensed had grown increasingly strong as they neared the Morgul Valley. The evil that had abided here not so long ago was almost palpable to the elves, and Legolas shuddered at the feel. Yet, there was something else. It seemed to him that there was another presence; an evil which was much older, and which bore more hatred and venom than the Nazgul. This ancient malevolence seemed to hang all about him, and though little in this world frightened him the strength of the hatred he felt filled him with dread. This was not an evil intent on destroying all that was good, it was intent on destroying him, and him alone.
He felt rather than heard the approach of Aldaluin. Legolas rose to face him and with a nod Aldaluin told him it was time to depart. Quickly they roused the men. Lalaith and Firith had awoken with the return of Aldaluin. Lalaith checked her daggers, which were concealed in every possible area of her raiment. A sword was strapped to her back, as were two long knives. A third hung at her waist. Firith, with a curved elven sword at his side, adjusted his quiver upon his back and tested his bowstring. The Dunedain had strapped on their swords and were donning their elven cloaks. Serewen appeared out of the woods, her elven blade still strapped at her waist, as was her long knife. With a quiver full of arrows and bow at his back Legolas led them silently up the final ascent to the pass that led into the Morgul Valley.
They walked single-file hugging the walls of the mountain as they rounded its shoulder and came within sight of the dark tower that had been home to the Nazgul. An eerie glow emanated from Minas Morgul. In the days before the Ringwraiths the tower had belonged to the men of Gondor, and was a defense against the forces of Mordor. In those days it had been called Minas Ithil, the Tower of the Moon, and it glowed with the moon's heavenly light. But the evil brought by the Nazgul and the foul orcs had tainted that light, making it wan and sickly, such that the whole valley appear bleached, as if it were part of the wraith world itself. From the uppermost tower a bright, yellow light issued forth from inside the citadel as if a single eye were casting its gaze about the valley, and the light moved as the tower slowly turned so that it appeared as if the eye were searching them out in the darkness.
The pass was not long and they were making their way down into the valley almost immediately. Boromir moved next to Legolas and whispered, "Can your eyes spy any person at the windows of that tower where the light is burning?" Legolas searched the windows, but could discern no shape or figure. The elf shook his head. Boromir dropped back and they continued their descent to the valley floor.
As they entered the valley the sense of evil grew. Not only the evil issuing forth from Minas Morgul, but also that evil that was directed toward Legolas. He felt as if unseen eyes were staring into his back, but when he turned to look there was only the men and elves of his company, and no enemy to be seen.
As soon as they were able they left the roadside and continued their journey under the cover of the trees and growth of the Ephel Duath. The way was slower, but the well-trained feet of the Dunedain and the skilled feet of the elves sped them along. With several hours to go before the rising of the moon they came to the foot of the valley where ran a small stream. The evil had grown stronger and stronger until Legolas's elven senses were screaming danger to him once again. Judging by the looks on the faces of Lalaith and Firith they sensed it as well. Aldaluin came to stand next to him. The fearsome glow coming from Minas Morgul gave just enough light for Legolas's keen eyes to see the look of warning in those of his captain. Aldaluin whispered so low that Legolas had to strain to hear him, "We are being watched." Legolas nodded his agreement. Turning he looked at Boromir and his men. The Rangers had loosened their swords in their scabbards, a sure sign they could sense trouble as well, and they appeared to be searching for something.
Boromir's face was grave and he moved to stand next to Legolas and Aldaluin, "Where is Serewen?"
Both elves turned to look behind them, but there was no sign of her. Legolas turned to go back when suddenly the sounds of many feet running could be heard from across the stream. Turning again he saw a band of orcs moving towards them. Firith's bow was already singing and orcs were falling before they could even cross the stream. The Dunedain, following Boromir, were rushing to meet the oncoming orcs, and Aldaluin and Lalaith ran with them. The hand of Lalaith flickered in the faint light and an orc went down, her dagger imbedded in its throat. Legolas grabbed the bow from his back and in one fluid movement had fitted arrow to string and then let loose. The orc fell even as he was reaching out to grab the sword arm of Andru.
The battle raged near the water. Lalaith had a long knife in each hand, and she was easily disemboweling any orcs who came within in her reach. A single orc had managed to come around behind Firith as he loosed his arrows, but Lalaith caught sight of him before Legolas could react. Shifting her knives to one hand, the now empty hand slipped inside her tunic. A flash was all that could be seen as the dagger flew from her hand and sliced deep into the orcs eye. His body fell twitching on the ground. Just as quickly the long knife was shuttled to her empty hand in time to swing down and catch an orc in the back.
The swords of the Dunedain flashed in the darkness, and the orc bodies were beginning to pile up at their feet. Across the small stream a large group of orcs were rushing straight at the Dunedain. Legolas checked his bow and swinging in their direction he let fly an arrow. The arrow hit the lead orc square between the eyes and also alerted Boromir and his men of their attack. Crying "Ithilien, Ithilien!" Boromir leapt over the bodies at his feet and blade swinging in a wide arc he fell amongst his enemies. The other Dunedain followed, as did Aldaluin wielding two swords in deadly fashion.
Legolas reached back into his quiver for another arrow, but suddenly felt a cold hand on his wrist. With incredible strength the hand pulled him backwards and a knife blade was suddenly at his throat. The blade bit into his skin, and the elf could feel warm droplets of blood trickling down his neck. Looking up he stared into dark eyes, and a voice as cold as steel whispered, "After thousands of years of waiting, I can now fulfill my oath. Look into my eyes, son of Thranduil, and see your doom."