Title: Bait - Author: Legorfilinde, Dark Forest Singer - Rating: PG-13 (Maybe R later) - Summary: The ancient vampire Thuringwethil puts the bite on Legolas. Is Aragorn safe? Can Aragorn save his friend before Legolas is turned to Shadow forever? - Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Middle Earth or any of J.R.R. Tolkien's characters, ideas, stories, or histories. I am receiving no payment for this fan fiction piece.
Part Ten
An impenetrable, black mist writhed and whorled throughout the darkened corridors of Dol Guldur like an uncontrollable tempest, and a piercing, howling shriek followed in its wake, ringing off the granite walls and deafening those within earshot. The frenzied orcs and goblins fled before the noxious vapors, their terrified screams adding to the thunderous maelstrom caused by the winds and gusts that whipped and lashed out from the dark, unnatural cloud.
Filled with a seething rage and blind fury, Thuringwethil ultimately shape-shifted from the swirling fog into a human-like form and began rampaging through the tower chambers searching for a victim to unleash her murderous reprisal upon. Her molten yellow eyes found and locked upon the orc, Râzgulduk, and he wailed in sheer terror at her fierce visage. His panicked eyes darted from left to right, frantically searching the room for a means of escape, but the iron doors leading to freedom slammed shut with a horrendous clang that shook the very walls of the structure and trapped the orc within this small, confined space with the enraged shadow creature.
"Mercy!" he pleaded, cringing with unbridled fear and truly believing that his wretched life was swiftly coming to an end.
"Bring me the Elf!" she screamed.
Granted this momentary reprieve, Râzgulduk ran toward the portals. "Yes, Lady! At once!" he quailed, praying that he would make it out of the room without feeling the elemental forces of her wrath rip through his hide.
Thuringwethil flung her arms wide and the heavy metal doors swung open allowing the orc to scurry through. Once the beast was gone, she threw her head back and let forth another maddened, insane shriek. When it was over and her lungs were spent, she started pacing the room back and forth like a caged and seething feline, her body shaking with rage and filled with vengeance.
She had been callously returned to the fortress of Dol Guldur after being summoned by the Dark Lord himself to appear in Barad-dûr without delay. Once there, she had been subjected to the smoldering fury of the Eye. He was much displeased with her recklessness and seeming disregard for the undertaking he had given her, and in return had subjected her to the scathing torments of his black will. And when the Dark Lord was finished with her, he had given her to his dreaded balrogs for punishment. The caustic sting of their flaming whips still scorched her pale flesh -- all for her failure to secure the heir of Isildur… all because the human had not come for the Elf as she had promised. And now back in her tower sanctuary, still smarting from that recent degradation, she could think of nothing else but venting her resentment and disgrace onto the source of her humiliation, that despicable Elf in the dungeons below.
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Legolas drifted in and out of consciousness, falling helplessly through nightmarish shadow lands only to be returned to the painful, agonizing reality of hanging suspended from the chains above his head in this dreadful and ghastly dungeon, without light, without stars, without life. He did not know how long he had been here, whether it was hours, days, weeks, only that his body had been without food and water for so long now that even his Elvish strength was weakening and would soon no longer sustain him.
The thirst for blood was overriding his reason and he now saw things through a reddened haze, shadowy and blurred, no longer certain what was real or imagined. At first the orcs had tried to force him to drink the blood of slaughtered animals, but he had struggled so violently with them, that they no longer even bothered to offer it to him and so the hunger worsened and grew even more insidious as it consumed his entire body.
He had relinquished all hope of rescue long ago, but from what his tortured mind could piece together, he believed Aragorn to be alive and unharmed… somewhere… and for that he was relieved. He was content that Aragorn had not succumbed to this foul creature's evil scheme and whatever his reason for not coming, Legolas did not fault him. He could not bear to think of Aragorn suffering this torment and prayed that wherever he was, he was safe and protected. As for himself, he was dying; of that he was certain.
Thuringwethil was mercilessly feeding upon him; draining his life almost to the point of death and then releasing him, weakened and delirious, only to return again to repeat the horror. She cruelly mocked him with seductive caresses, touching his face and body with her repulsive, glacial hands, violating his body in ways that he had never before imagined. Each tormenting act left him with a raging hunger burning throughout his body, never fulfilled, and growing more rapacious each time she drank from him. He was certain that the agarmael* was taking over his body, changing him; and he was revolted and appalled to think that he was becoming one of the undead. He could no longer bear this rape of his soul as well as his body and he longed for it to end…but she would not let it, and he did not believe he could maintain his sanity much longer.
When the noisy commotion began outside the dungeon door and the hideous orc entered his cell, Legolas could not determine whether he was dreaming or awake, but when the creature released the chain above his head and he fell like a rock to his knees, the pain that shot through his kneecaps like an arrow's point assured him that he was indeed very much awake. His arms, now lowered below his heart, began to seize with spasms as the blood once again began its swift course through his veins. His bloodied wrists throbbed and oozed as the metal cuffs grated and cut into his skin and his hands shook as if palsied.
The orc was cruelly indifferent to the Elf's shattered and weakened body, and clearly relished his suffering. Heartlessly, he snatched up the lengthy chain and pulled Legolas to his feet.
"Get up, you worthless Elf," he spit at the fair being, giving the chain another vicious tug.
Legolas lurched forward, his wrists brutally jerked by the chain as he was dragged across the stones. It was only a matter of moments before his weakened legs collapsed under him and he fell, yet somehow he managed to gain his knees, and then rise unsteadily to his feet. He stumbled numbly after the orc and nearly fell again when they reached the cell doorway as the dark creature dragged him out into the corridor beyond.
"Where are you taking me?" The Elf prince croaked through cracked and parched lips.
By way of an answer, Râzgulduk yanked on the heavy chain again and pulled the woodland Elf along behind him through the dark halls. Legolas tripped and lost his footing, plummeting to the stones and landing heavily on his side. As he went down, he grazed his head on the rock wall and the blow caused his vision to blur and darken for several seconds.
"Stand up, you filthy Elf," the orc sneered, and cruelly hauled Legolas along the flagstones for another several yards.
Legolas' body rolled over and banged into the granite blocks of the passageway before he was able to again rise to his knees. He painfully rose to his feet and leaned heavily against the stone wall, using it as a support to hold himself upright. As he swayed forward, dizzy and disoriented from the crack to his head, he squinted through the blood running down his face from a laceration above his eyebrow. He brought his bound wrists up to his face and swiped the blood away, smearing it across his cheek and down the sides of his hands.
The relentless orc heaved on the chain and again forced Legolas to move. Subjugator and captive made their tortuous way through the tower passages in this faltering erratic struggle until both eventually reached the chamber where Thuringwethil impatiently waited. Râzgulduk pulled the Elf into the center of the room and let go of the heavy chain leash. It dropped to the Elf's feet with a clatter and Legolas watched it fall to the ground with a surreal, detached interest. It was all he could do to remain standing on his feet and not join the chain in a twisted heap upon the obsidian floor.
The were-woman swooped down upon Legolas from her perch at the tower window like some foul carrion raptor and struck the golden Elf across the face with one ferocious swipe of her opened hand. Legolas staggered sideways, hammered by the force of the assault and almost fell but rocked back up and stood facing the she-demon, his eyes vainly trying to focus on her face and his surroundings.
"Where is he?" She shrieked at the battered Elf. "Why does he not come for you?"
Legolas' ears were ringing and bright flashes of light were exploding in front of his eyes, mixing with the red mist of his shadow vision, the aftermath of her brutal attack. His already disjointed brain was further jumbled and he could not understand what she was asking him, and then he knew. Aragorn… she's asking about Aragorn… so, he still eludes her.
"I-I don't know… " he managed to choke out.
Thuringwethil lunged at him again and the Elf shrank back, raising his hands to his face to prevent another abusive strike from the enraged monster, but she was much too fast. Her icy hand seized Legolas' slender neck and her long, tenacious fingers clamped around his windpipe like thin iron bands, crushing the airway and cutting off his breath. He choked and gagged, desperately clawing at her hand, trying to pull it away from his throat, but to no avail.
"Aragorn of the Dúnedain!" she hissed. "Where is he?"
The Elf's futile attempts to pry her constricting fingers away from his throat were slowly ending as his lungs gave up for lack of air and his awareness began to fade. Thuringwethil screeched in thwarted fury and using her formidable morgul strength hurled Legolas across the room. His lithe frame flew through the air and slammed into the far wall with tremendous force and then he fell to the floor like a crushed rag doll; the clattering chain tether followed behind him, slithering along the stones like a silver snake, and came to a halt on the floor beside his body. He felt his ribs snap when he hit the stones, and his lungs, previously deprived of oxygen, now instinctively began to fill. As they expanded with air, they pressed painfully against the broken bones in his chest and he moaned in anguish. Gasping, he drew his knees up to his chest and clutched at his aching sides.
The malicious shape-shifter sprang upon him anew and snatched up a fistful of his long, blond hair. Twisting her fingers through the lengthy, golden mane, she yanked his head up and glared down into his face. Legolas winced as she tightened her grip on his hair and jerked him upward again, half-lifting him off the floor.
"Where is Aragorn?" she growled.
"I don't know," he gasped. "I don't know where he is."
Her yellow eyes burned with a volcanic rage that threatened to erupt and then, incredibly, the fiend seemed to hesitate and her entire manner transformed to one of calm, cold malice. When she smiled, Legolas' heart stopped; he knew he was now in unimaginable danger.
"Very well," she purred, loosening her grip on his hair and walking away. Legolas fell back onto the stones and grimaced as his elbow bounced roughly off the rock floor. She turned back and looked at the Elf with a vindictive smirk. "Maybe my pets can make you talk."
She signaled to Râzgulduk and the orc yowled with unrestrained glee. He scuttled forward and snatched up the chain attached to Legolas' wrists and mercilessly jerked the Elf to his feet again. The prince cried out in agony as his cracked ribs slid against one another and a clammy wave of dizziness swept over him.
Thuringwethil quickly moved to block the orc's path and the creature looked up at his mistress with sudden terror. "Do not kill him, Râzgulduk," she whispered as she ran a hand over the orc's lumpy head. "Or I will pull out your foul heart and feed it to you while it is still beating."
The orc cringed, knowing this was no mere threat and he whined piteously. "I understand. No kill."
"Good," she sneered. "Now go."
Legolas feebly tried to pull backward upon the chain, but the orc was too strong and he was carried forward and out of the chamber toward some new unspeakable torture. The hideous cackles of Thuringwethil's cruel laughter followed them down the corridors.
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It was the dawn of the fourteenth day since Aragorn's mad dash through the woods to reach the court of Lasgalen, and there was still no sign of Gandalf or the Dwarves he was to bring with him. Strider had set up camp to the north of Dol Guldur in the early hours after midnight. He had seen no sign of orcs in the surrounding woods and the tower, although quiet, was alit with numerous torches. He had gone without a fire and planned to allow himself only a few hours of light sleep, when some time before dawn he had been awakened by a blood-curdling shriek issuing from the tower that had chilled his soul. After that, he had not been able to fall back to sleep and remained watchful until the first rays of the rising sun lightened the sky.
The young ranger now scanned the trees searching for any signs of movement, but all was silent and still. The Sindarin Elves under Eäráng's command were hidden in the trees above, of that he was certain, but true to his word, the warrior's troop was so well concealed that even Aragorn could not detect them. Nonetheless, he was glad to have them here as reinforcements.
As the morning mists began to fade from the forest floor, Strider thought that he could make out the sounds of arguing voices and turning to the right his gaze peered through the trees and bushes. A short time later the rickety wagon of the grey wizard came into view, Gandalf seated upon the boards. Hidden from view, the Dwarves riding in the back of the cart continued their noisy squabbles, their voices growing ever louder. Strider let the wagon pass by his position and then emerged from the undergrowth and appeared behind the carriage as if he had popped out of the thin air.
Roifur spotted the ranger first and let out a startled shout. "Hoy there!" The others ceased their babble long enough to turn their heads to see what had caught their companion's attention.
"Gentlemen," Strider murmured into the murky dawn fog. "A bit less noise if you please."
Gandalf turned at the sound of Aragorn's voice and pulled up on the horse's reins, stopping the wagon. "Ah, Strider. Sorry to be late."
The ranger walked up to the wizard and offered a hand to assist the ancient magus from off the cart and onto the ground. The Dwarves seated in the rear began to jump out of the conveyance and drop to the ground as well, still making a good deal of fuss and commotion.
Gandalf shook his head, laughing. "We would have been here sooner, but my sturdy companions refused to ride horses." He winked at the ranger. "I barely got them to compromise and ride in my wagon. It seems they don't particularly care for my collection of fireworks either."
"Aye," Lomli agreed. "This job is dangerous enough without bouncing about atop a box of foul blasting power." The others nodded their agreement.
"Come," Strider said as he attempted to herd the Dwarves off the road and into the woods. "My camp is in the trees. We need to discuss our plans."
"Quite so," Gandalf agreed. "Come along then my good friends." He said to the miners. "Let's get this wagon concealed and start unloading our supplies."
Within an hour everyone was settled and once again looking over the scrolls that Gandalf had brought along detailing the layout of the black tower now visible through the trees to the south. Satisfied by what he saw, Lomli grasped his axe and hefted it onto his broad shoulder.
"We best go have a look at these tunnels before we plan anything further. Roifur, you come with me. We'll take the river tunnel. Hulir, go with Glaran. You two investigate the tunnel by the tower wall." He glanced up at the sun. "The sun's high enough now, we shouldn't have any trouble with orcs poking about."
"And do try to be quiet," Gandalf chided. "Speed and stealth are our only advantages."
Lomli frowned at the wizard's admonishment, but nodded nonetheless. "Very well, but as I said before, tunneling is a noisy business; we'll do our best."
With that said, the four boxy Dwarves headed out of the camp and toward the ancient tower. Strider and Mithrandir followed a pace, talking softly among themselves.
"The Elves are here," Strider said, tilting his head slightly upward toward the treetops. "They have been keeping a watch upon the fortress and the orc movements for the past three days. Eäráng believes there may only be several hundred orcs within the tower at this time. If that is true, it will clearly lessen the odds against us."
"Indeed," murmured the sage. "I trust I can cause enough of a diversion out front of the main gates to draw the orcs' interest and allow you time to enter the tower without difficulty should that become necessary." He turned a concerned frown upon the young man. "But I fear the real danger will come from Thuringwethil."
Gandalf gazed ahead as if to collect his thoughts and then continued. "If you can breach the tower by day, she will be within her tomb, weakened, but still very dangerous. You will need to find Legolas quickly and get him out before either she or any of the lethargic orcs can be roused from their slumber."
"What if Legolas is not being kept in the dungeons? I may have a problem finding him. The longer I am within the walls of the keep, the less chance I have of getting us both out of there unharmed." Aragorn flexed his sword arm absentmindedly as they walked, thinking of the task ahead. "Do you know where he might be if not in the lower prison?"
"Unfortunately, the Shadow Woman could be holding him anywhere," the wizard frowned. "Try the dungeons first. I will show you where they are located. If he is not being held there, I assume that he will be somewhere near her secret chambers where she can keep a watchful eye upon him." He paused. "There is only one place within the tower where Thuringwethil would be able to lie undisturbed. It is within the central keep where the Necromancer once performed his foul spells. You must rescue Legolas by the light of day; to enter that tower after dusk would be much too perilous."
He glanced at the young man walking beside him. "You must take great care, Aragorn. Although in a weakened state during daylight, if she becomes aware of your presence, she can arise and will relentlessly hunt you down. Do not allow her to mesmerize you with her stare, and avoid looking directly at her eyes at any cost."
"But how can I kill such a demon?" asked the young ranger.
"You must wait until she assumes a human form. If you can strike her through the heart with wood or cut off her head with steel, she can be slain. But beware, young Strider. You may only have one chance to kill her. If you are not successful, you may not have another." He sighed. "And I fear for Legolas. By now we may already be too late."
A look of panic filled the human's eyes. "What do you mean, too late?"
"He may already be turned to shadow," Gandalf replied, the sadness heavy upon his heart. "If he has, we cannot save him while the were-woman lives. He will be her minion and obey only her command."
"Then I must kill her," Aragorn swore. "I will not allow Legolas to suffer thus."
Gandalf smiled grimly. I do hope that you can, he mused, or Legolas is surely lost to us.
*bloodlust