Disclaimer: Based on 'The Lord of the Rings', by JRR Tolkien. This is a non-commercial work. No infringement of copyright is intended.
"Window of the Sunset" is the fourth in the
Broken Fellowship Series. It is
strongly recommended that you read the previous stories first.
Shelob vs. Legolas. One will live, one will die. Enjoy!
The Broken Fellowship, Book IV:
Window of the Sunset
Chapter 11: The Dark Lair
by Lizardbeth Johnson
The going was slow with the path winding through rocks. Twice Legolas had to back track, losing the path for a trail that led nowhere. But he noticed that the path began to bend northward, until it passed between two pillars and into a ravine. The path was clear as a road then, heading straight up the ravine toward a high cliff-face.
The foul smell grew stronger as well, and Legolas began to feel that strange awareness in his blood that bespoke evil. The lair was closer now. He walked in the center of the ravine, senses attuned for the least movement to either side, and pulled out an arrow to put to the string. The ravine was only about twenty paces across and mostly bare, smoothed stone except for a few larger boulders behind them. He and Sam were utterly boxed in. Yet he saw no movement of spiders descending the walls around them as he expected.
They walked into the deep shadow at the foot of the wall, Legolas' steps slowing. There was an opening within that wall, and from that cave, the stench was pouring out.
That cave was the lair. The only question was whether that cave was also the continuation of the path.
Had he missed the path? Among all the rocks perhaps he had lost the true way. But he knew, in his heart, that this was the path -- straight through a lair that smelled much worse and was far older than any lair Legolas had ever seen in Mirkwood.
Sam coughed, the reek getting caught in his throat. "Are you sure this is the way? Through there?"
"I believe so," Legolas answered, but could not move closer to the entrance of the cave.
The sense of loathsome evil was growing stronger. Much stronger than the spiders of Mirkwood. It was a power the ring recognized, but did not rule. The approaching evil was just as ancient, but was not a servant of Morgoth. It had no desire to rule or enslave, only destroy. It was hungry and thirsty, seeking to swallow all light and all life in the world.
It sensed elf, a much better meal than the scrawny orcs or slaves occasionally tossed to it by Sauron. Long years had it been since it sucked the juicy light right out of elf bones.
Legolas fell back a step and raised his bow. "It's coming. Sam, move back."
Sam needed no further urging. He ran back to shelter among the boulders near the entrance and pulled Sting free.
On a cloud of choking foulness, it emerged from the cave. For one instant, Legolas felt dismay and his skin shuddered in horror. This creature was vast, many times the size of its cousins in Mirkwood. Its head with its hundreds of faceted eyes reared higher than Legolas' own, glittering with malice that stretched back to the days before the first dawn. It was an unfathomably ancient evil spawned by Ungoliant, the demon-spider queen who had destroyed the Two Trees in Valinor and cast all the world into shadow.
Shining black carapace merged with the sickly pale, ponderous abdomen that hung nearly to the ground and looked like a giant grub beneath a rock. The claws as big as his own feet clicked on the stone. The jaws worked, slavering with eagerness.
He shot arrow after arrow, at the baleful eyes, at the great maw, at her abdomen and found no weakness in her armor. His arrows struck her glittering eyes, and several went dark, but she had plenty more. He reached back and found his quiver was empty.
She stood there and seemed to enjoy her prey's desperate struggles.
Legolas felt a great calm descend on him as he stared back at the creature. There was nothing left within him but his desire to battle this creature and destroy it. He drew his sword.
"Come, abomination," he challenged. "Your kind wove your webs in the valley of Dungortheb when the world was young, but you could not pass into Doriath, home of my kin. I do not fear you."
The blade of Boromir's sword glinted with blue light, so strong was his loathing for this creature, and he held the sword unwavering before him.
The creature hesitated, struck by the power of the elf before it. Not since the dark days, when she had roamed the surface of the world, had she encountered one so strong.
But still, Shelob was greater -- greater in evil, greater in strength -- and the life of one so powerful would be all the sweeter.
She moved, with appalling smoothness for her massive size.
And Legolas moved, his sword a glimmering arc of fire, dodging the sharp claws and snapping jaws. The sword screeched with terrible noise across the armored plates of her body, but did not penetrate. He rolled clear, batting away a stabbing claw, and jumped back to his feet.
Again and again they clashed. Not since Gil-galad had fought Sauron before the Barad-dûr had there been an elf more determined to bring down his foe and just as fated to lose.
Legolas snarled and brought his sword down on the nearest leg, intending to slice it off at the joint. But he forgot he was not wielding his own sword, the blade given to his grandfather Oropher by Fingolfin himself, but rather one made by humans. The blade shattered.
Legolas ducked frantically, as the sharp spines of the spider's legs bit deeply into the side of his face, and with all his strength he thrust the hilt and its broken blade into the folds of her abdomen. He shouted, "Gilthoniel, tiro nin, Fanuilos!"
She shrieked with the unexpected pain. Poison sprayed from the small wound, bubbling like acid on his overtunic, and he flipped clear, her jaws briefly scoring his shoulder.
He drew his knives as the two foes regarded each other. Elven-made, the blades glittered with fiercer blue fire that reflected from her eyes like a thousand tiny windows above an endless abyss.
He knew in that moment, he was going to die. These blades might damage her, but he did not think there was a blade in existence that could penetrate that armor and the thickness of thousands of years of growth within. He would have to get beneath her in order to hope to do any damage at all with his shorter reach.
Unless...
He had another weapon. A much more powerful weapon. One the spider-queen could not withstand.
His blood burned to destroy her and utterly wipe her foulness from Middle-Earth forever. This spawn of Ungoliant, mother of all the loathsome spiders of his once-fair home, would die by his hand.
A smile grew on his face, and he moved back slowly toward the opening of the ravine, luring her away from her hole. He would give her no chance to flee.
She followed and charged.
He threw both his knives, and did not watch to see how she batted them away. It distracted her a moment and that was all he needed. He ripped the chain from his neck and pulled the ring off.
And he slid it onto the first finger of his left hand.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Sam had sensed the quest going awry from the moment Legolas had stood on top of the pinnacle of stone, laughing as the lightning splashed all around him. Yet that was nothing compared to the dread that filled him as Legolas battled the giant spider.
Fast as Legolas was, skilled and strong as he was, the spider was as big as the front hall at Bag End and armored. Legolas could barely prick it. The sword was broken and destroyed, and Legolas barely escaped. The side of his face dripped with blood.
When the elf threw both of his knives, Sam gasped in horror. Legolas was now unarmed. Sam clutched the stone of his hiding place with one hand, while the other gripped Sting. He would throw the sword to Legolas.
But then Legolas tore the ring from his neck and put it on.
"NO!" Sam yelled, rising from behind the rock. But it was too late.
The faint shimmer of starlight around the elf at night brightened until he glowed like the moon. The spider stopped, regarding him warily.
Legolas' left hand reached up to the sky, the gold of the ring on his finger like a beacon. The clouds boiled and frothed and it grew darker, until all Sam could see was the gleaming figure of Legolas and more faintly, the paleness of the spider's belly.
The spider began to retreat back toward her lair.
But Legolas didn't allow her.
Lightning smote the ground in between the spider and the cave, and the crack of thunder was deafening. Sam clapped his hands over his ears and shut his eyes, and still the brilliance of the lightning flashed through his eyelids as again it struck.
Then there was no more and Sam warily raised his eyes. He saw the great bulk of Shelob smoking on the ground, unmoving and oozing foul ichor from a blackened, shattered carapace.
Legolas stood before her, still glowing with the ring radiance. One hand was extended toward the cave and a ball of fire rolled off his fingertips and slammed inside the cave with a muffled sound of an explosion.
"Legolas?" Sam asked warily, in a voice scarcely able to escape his throat.
But Legolas -- or whatever he had become -- heard him and whirled. His eyes were unseeing sapphire.
Sam threw himself down as flames hurtled over his head.
Then Legolas began to scream.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Now you are mine!
The Eye filled the world, and Legolas trembled before it.
No, no --
MINE! The voice surrounded him and caressed him, seductive and soft, reaching within to stroke deeply. You want the power, Firstborn. I can taste your desire. Do not deny what you want. Together we will rule this Middle-Earth, my prince.
No... But his voice was weak, his resistance desperate. No, I will not do this. I am Eldar. I bring your doom.
You bring your own. You know this already. This doom was appointed to you from the beginning of time. Come to me. Surrender, my love. Give yourself to the power.
The abyss at the center of the Eye pulled him down and try as he might, he could not find a way out.
He flailed for any twig or blade of grass to save himself from falling. Even as it pulled him down, too strong for his small struggles, he reached out, stretching, seeking aid.
He needed more power to help him resist the pull. And he found it.
He grabbed the hand that was suddenly there, warm and strong. "Help me. Please, help me!" Fingers curled around his, and Mithrandir's rich, expressive voice surrounded him, holding him still and safe.
"I will not let you fall, Legolas," Mithrandir promised.
And then there was another hand there, atop theirs, slender and pale as the moon, but shining more brightly than the flames of the Eye that sought to swallow him whole.
"You will have our aid, Ring-bearer." Galadriel's whisper echoed in his mind.
Then a third hand clasped them all, powerful and long-fingered -- the hand of one who could wield a sword and a quill with equal skill.
Elrond's strong voice was comfortably familiar. "We stand together, Legolas." He commanded, the scion of the greatest of elves and men, in a tone as deep and unstoppable as the sea, "And we cast the Shadow out!"
The power flared from their joined hands: Air, Water, and Fire, woven together with the indivisible Power of Legolas' ring in one torrent, rushing through him and throwing Sauron back.
The weight was gone from him, he could breathe and think. For a moment, the darkness was gone.
And suddenly he could see them all, faint forms of light, but there. They were all so brilliant, and he could see their rings shining like stars. But one was brighter than the rest, and his eyes shone with the light of Aman.
Legolas knew then, what he should have always known. Or rather, what he had always known, but not understood until that moment. He bowed his head. "Lord Olórin."
"Legolas," the wise, kind eyes settled on him in great sorrow. "This should not have come to you, merry child of the forest. Yet it is your burden and you bear it with courage. But even so there is but one chance for the light."
"You must not give it to him, and you must not allow him to take it from you," Galadriel warned. "Or all hope of light has fled."
"The Fellowship is broken. The quest for Mount Doom has failed," Elrond declared grimly.
Failed. The truth lay heavily on his heart. He had failed.
Legolas looked up into the resolute faces of the three other ring-bearers. He could only find strength enough to whisper, "What must I do?"
Elrond answered, his grey eyes dark with sorrow and regret. "When all is in darkness, only then will hope come again. It is your fate to bear that darkness, Legolas."
His heart seemed to stop within his chest as fear held him more tightly than the ring's claws. But it was not a surprise, not truly. Some part of his spirit had known his doom from the moment he had awoken under the boughs of the Golden Wood. "I understand," he whispered and closed his eyes. "Tell my family --" His voice faltered and he could speak no more. How could he ask anyone to tell his father that his only son was lost to the Shadow?
Elrond's voice was soft and gentle. "I will tell them that you loved them, Thranduilion. Go with Elbereth's grace."
He felt Galadriel's lips on his forehead, like the touch of a butterfly's wings, and his fear eased. "Namarië," she whispered. The two elves were gone, leaving Olórin and Legolas, with their hands still clasped.
"Remember this, Erynion," Olórin's free hand touched the side of his face and wiped away a tear from his cheek. "You are Firstborn of the Children of Ilúvatar. And you remain that forever. He has not the power to destroy that."
Legolas nodded his understanding.
"Now, remove the ring, child. It is time for you to return to Middle-Earth," Olórin instructed.
"Will I see you again?" Legolas asked, suddenly fearful.
"In truth, I do not know," Olórin answered. "For only One knows the end of all. But I believe we will meet again, young Legolas. Until that day, Ilúvatar grant you peace."
And he was gone.
Before the Eye could return in strength, Legolas reached down and pulled the Ring from his finger...
He staggered, unable to find his balance as the world spun and changed around him. He struck something hard with his shoulder, and the pain was enough to jolt him back to awareness. He raised one hand to touch what he had fallen against, and his fingers found the stones of the wall of the ravine. Still he did not yet open his eyes, not ready to face what was to come.
Oh Valar, I do not have the strength to do this. Is it not better to die?
A small, worried voice broke into his despair. "Legolas? Legolas, can you hear me?"
It was Sam's voice. Sam was still alive.
Legolas forced his eyes to open and he turned, to find a scene of destruction. The smoking giant corpse of Shelob still bubbled with reeking poisons. Not far away lay the hilt and melted blade of Boromir's sword, and his two scattered knives flickered.
Behind him, still half hidden behind a boulder, stood Sam, peering at him, pale as the moon above with wide terrified eyes. But it was Sam, and he looked unhurt. Legolas swayed and caught himself on a stone outcropping.
"I thought you were dead," Legolas whispered. "I thought I'd killed you."
"No," Sam said. He warily moved out from behind the boulder and forward a few steps toward Legolas, but not all the way. Legolas saw the fear -- of him - in his eyes and it hurt him in his spirit, that the gentle hobbit should be afraid of him.
"I ducked. But you got the lair."
"The lair?" Legolas repeated blankly. He remembered something vaguely about Shelob's lair, but not doing anything to it
Sam pointed behind him, and Legolas turned again The entrance to Shelob's cave was belching out disgusting, pale grey smoke and he could hear the flames within the tunnels, gleefully licking the strands of the giant spider's webbing.
"The lair's on fire," Sam explained softly from somewhere behind him. "I saw flames come off your hand."
"By Elbereth," Legolas whispered and leaned against the stone wall at his back. "We cannot go that way."
"No, I don't think so," Sam agreed. "We have to go back and find another way."
His right fist, enclosing the ring, cramped painfully and he loosened his fingers to look at the ring on his palm. A heavy weight of presence pressed upon him, like a hot wind at his back. It was the Eye of Sauron fixed on him now, inescapable whether he wore the ring or not. That meant the Ringwraiths would also know where he was.
He glanced at his loyal companion and his heart ached. Determination rose within him that this one he would save. He had promised once to do all in his power to get Sam home, and that was a promise he could at least attempt to fulfill.
"Yes," he said to Sam, knowing the words were a lie. "We must go back and find another way."
He picked up his knives and his bow, automatically retrieving a handful of arrows for his quiver, and started back the way they had come. Sam followed behind him, but soon noticed that Legolas' pace was slow.
"Shouldn't we be hurrying?" he asked. "I remember Gandalf told us that the wraiths could sense the ring when it's used. Aren't they going to be coming to find us?"
With bleak amusement, Legolas thought, why come find us, when this path ends at their door? But aloud he said only, "They will ride up the main pass, expecting to find us down there, not up here."
Nor have I a desire to meet my doom swiftly, Master Samwise. What will come, will come, whether or not I hurry to meet it.
To be concluded in Chapter 12: Fallen into Shadow