THE GRIFFON'S TEARS

Chapter 2 ~ "The Moaning Wind"

Maladok sat back on his haunches and sobbed. Great rolling tears streamed from his eyes and dropped with a hiss into the dark bowl below him.

"Very good, my pet," Zarraweth purred. But there was malice in her tone and Maladok shivered. His back burned from the whipping she'd given him and his shoulders ached terribly from his first flight.

First flight . . . all the way from the Angmar mountains. Maladok looked down miserably at his arms.

But they were no longer arms. Instead feathers covered well muscled legs. They ended in cruelly curved talons that were ill quipped to stand on the stone floor of Barad-Dûr's tallest tower. His claws curled and scratched on the slick surface and two gold manacles circled his wrists tightly.

Ankles, he thought pitifully. He no longer had wrists.

On the wall beside him he caught sight of his silhouette, a great beaked head, with its long ear tufts, massive wings, lean feline body and a sinuous tail.

With a shudder of revulsion, Maladok shifted his great golden wings, trying to find a comfortable position for his aching muscles.

"Stay still!" Zarraweth snapped. She was bent over the black bowl. Muttering to herself, the surface of the liquid inside began to glow, softly at first and then with greater intensity. Soon it cast a light about the windy tower that threw all else into shadow.

An unhealthy smile lit the witch's face. Carefully carrying the bowl to the edge of the battlements, she held it up and began speaking an awful incantation. Power, unlike anything that Middle Earth had seen before began to vibrate in the air.

At the back of the tower, Maladok whimpered and sank down to the stone, putting his huge curved talons over his eyes.

~ ~ ~

Legolas leaped down from the rock face into the small band of Orcs that circled Gimli, slashing two of them with his long knives before they could even advance on him. At his back, he heard the sickening crunch of an axe sinking into a skull. He dealt with another Orc and then turned in time to see Gimli slay two more.

And then quite suddenly there was no more of the enemy to slay.

Legolas and Gimli both stumbled to a halt. They had been fighting the entire day. The Orcs had been slightly better prepared than they originally thought. But only slightly. Once the initial battle had begun, Orc archers had sprang into sight on the parapets of Barad-Dûr, raining arrows down upon Aragorn and Gimli's armies. But Aragorn had simply pulled their troops back, continuing the battle out of range of the archers. Legolas had sent a few of his best to pick the archers off of the battlement walls, not a terribly difficult task for Elvin archers.

The battle had gone well from the beginning, too well almost. All the commanders had had a sense of foreboding. But the only reason the battle had lasted as long as it did was because of the sheer number of Orcs and Uruk-hai. Barad-Dûr had contained hundreds of the loathsome creatures.

But now as Legolas and Gimli stood still, they looked around at the almost quiet battlefield and the battle seemed to be over.

"That was too easy," Gimli declared.

"I agree," Legolas said, turning to stand beside his friend. "Even wild mountain Orcs fight with more foresight than these did. It was almost as if they were driven out to the slaughter."

"Perhaps they had a fool of a commander."

Legolas's furrowed his brow. "Surely they would not be THIS foolish . . ."

He and Gimli slowly made their way across the corpse ridden ground toward Aragorn. An ill wind began to pluck at their clothing.

"Bah!" Gimli growled. "I hope that we are not going to get a storm. With all these dead Orcs . . ."

He never finished the sentence. The wind picked up so violently that the rest of his words were swept away. Dust and debris pelted them. Legolas shaded his bright eyes with his hand as he staggered toward Aragorn.

"This is no natural wind," Aragorn shouted when they reached each other.

"But who is behind it?" Legolas shouted back. "Someone must be working dark magic in the tower. The Orcs may have been merely a diversion. We must get in there!"

"We will be no match for a magician!" Gimli shouted over the rising wind.

"But we must! We cannot allow this evil to continue . . ." Legolas broke off when the wind pushed him hard enough that he stumbled. Gimli immediately grabbed a hold of his friend's wrist. It would take a much sturdier wind than this to shove a dwarf!

"We can do nothing in this!" Aragorn shouted. "We must take cover."

Before the others could reply though, Legolas' cloak was torn from his shoulders and whipped off across the plain. Sight was becoming impossible due to dirt in the air. The three grabbed each other's arms to steady themselves. But though it seemed impossible, the wind increased and small rocks were skidding across the ground as if they weighed no more than leaves.

Just before Legolas' feet left the ground, he was certain he heard the sound of sobbing in that awful wind.

Moments later, the entire plain before Barad-Dûr was swept completely clean of the living and the dead. Nothing remained upon it except a moaning vortex of wind.

~ ~ ~

"Did you feel that?" Alede gasped, pulling away from Elrohir.

"I certainly did," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Not that!" Alede snapped, giving him a shove in the chest.

They had stopped to rest for the night and Elrohir had lifted Alede down from Faunlend. He held her in a teasing embrace that was so tight it had made her ribs creak.

"Did you feel it, Father?" Alede asked, fighting her way out of Elrohir's embrace.

"Feel what, Alede?"

"Magic. Did you not feel it or hear it moaning on the wind?"

Radagast turned and looked at Cyrus, but the blue wizard merely shrugged his shoulders.

Puzzled, Alede went about rubbing Faunlend down, trying to sort out the cacophony of emotions she heard from Legolas and wondering just who could have produced such strong magic.

~ ~ ~

Maladok shifted away from Zarraweth, trying to shield his body behind the post he'd been tied to. But it was impossible. He was nearly the size of a cart horse and his claws could not find purchase on the smooth stone.

"Time for more magic," Zarraweth said in a mocking singsong voice. "Ah . . . what is wrong, my pet? Is the griffon frightened?" She laughed cruelly and jerked the chain which bound his neck.

"You did not believe me, did you?" she hissed. "I told you I'd been studying Malina's books, yet still you did not believe me!"

Maladok cringed away from her. Yet he couldn't deny it. He had not believed what was written in the old books.

*I should have. Radagast's wife was fair, but Malina was no empty headed beauty.*

Zarraweth had spoken many times of the ancient books that had belonged to Radagast's wife. Malina had spent much time compiling old folklore about plants and animals. There was an entire chapter on the mystical properties of magical animals. But Maladok had not believed it.

While he knew that dragons were real, he'd never seen a unicorn, though the chapter mentioned them. Legend said that they lived in Lothlorien, but he assumed it was all nonsense.

And as for Griffons . . . well! He'd certainly never laid eyes on one. An absurd beast! Any animal that had the front legs and head of an eagle and the back legs and tail of a lion could only be make believe.

Or so he'd thought.

And as for the tears of the griffon containing extraordinary magic . . . well, he'd assumed that was all nonsense too.

Nonsense until the day that Zarraweth had come back with a pretty pair of manacles and clamped them over his arms and commanded him to transform into a griffon. Helpless against the enslaving, dark magic in the manacles, he'd been forced to comply.

Transformation was his unique talent. An idiotic talent, he had come to believe, thanks to Saruman's interference.

Saruman had been given the gift of leadership, Gandalf had wisdom and the ability to influence mankind. Radagast had had his abilities with birds and animals and Cyrus his alchemy. Even little Alede had her gift of healing. But Maladok had been cursed with the ability to transform.

At first, he had used his abilities for good, as they all had when the Valar sent them to Middle Earth, he remembered that now. Oddly enough, when he changed into Griffon form, his old memories had returned. And most of them were not pleasant.

Maladok had been a good wizard when he'd first been sent to Middle Earth. Many times, over and over, he had used his transformation abilities to subtly change the course of humanity. When war threatened, he had flown above the commanders in the form of a crow, an omen of evil, thus influencing them to talk peace instead of fighting. Sometimes he whispered words of advice into the ears of sleeping village leaders in the small shape of a mouse.

But then there had been that argument with Saruman. Maladok could not remember much of it still, but he knew that he had walked out of Orthanc changed. His previous humble life seemed an insult and he found fault with everything and everyone in his path.

*And my ego grew until my wits could no longer contain it!*

And soon he discovered that his transformation abilities could be used for his own good instead of those of the brainless beings he now found himself surrounded by.

By transforming himself into various lords or princes he could help himself to wealth or women . . . whatever he wanted.

It had been amusing at first, but it was an empty sort of amusement and he did seem to get caught rather often. Gandalf had even suggested at one point that he was not clever enough to pull off his various ruses and that he ought to stick to the Valar's original purpose. But Maladok had indignantly told Gandalf that he was wrong. Maladok knew that he was incredibly clever.

At least until now.

Now he realized what an utter fool he had been. He regretted every boast he had made to Zarraweth about his transformation abilities. He began to regret too, the many people that he had duped over all the years. He knew now what it felt like to be made a fool of, to have one's life ruined by someone else.

And he began to think less and less like a wizard and more like a . . . a creature of magic.

~ ~ ~

[Several days later.]

The four armies marched tiredly away from Mordor to the relative safety of the foothills. The sudden magical wind had hurled all of them up into the mountains surrounding Mordor. They'd landed in a tangle of Men, Elves, irate Dwarves and the corpses of Orcs. Many of them had been severely injured. Far more had been injured by the wind than had been hurt in the actually battle.

Any thoughts of going back to investigate the dark tower had been quashed. A hurricane of wind-driven dirt circled Barad-Dûr like a wall and showed no signs of abating. Legolas had stalled for three days while they gathered their warriors together and tended to the wounded. His own injuries were minor, the result of a thorn bush and nothing more. But Gimli had suffered a dislocated shoulder when he landed on the unforgiving earth and Aragorn had wrenched his back.

Legolas had desperately wanted to return even though the wall of wind still circled Mordor. It was not in him to turn away from such unfinished business. But he had finally turned away when Gimli had insisted upon returning with him. The dwarf was in no condition to be traveling over rough ground or fighting whatever it was that now controlled the dark land and neither were the others.

Legolas had finally helped Gimli mount Aransûl, since the Dwarf's arm was in a sling and they had turned toward Gondor.

*Perhaps if we had arrived weeks ago, this evil would not have been prepared for us.*

"What are you mumbling about now?" Gimli asked irritably as they were well into their journey.

"Nothing," Legolas replied. Gimli had already chastised him for his regrets.

"Ahh, just as I thought," Gimli replied. "Your mind has gone and now you speak to yourself."

"Tis the only way I can find an equal for my conversation," Legolas retorted. "I fear that what I have to say is far above your dull intellect."

"Ha! But at least this 'dull intellect' of mine knows not to weary itself with 'what ifs'."

Legolas sighed. Gimli had him there, he could not deny it, but he said nothing. Instead he urged Aransûl forward. Aragorn and Faramir had dismounted and stood talking beside their tired horses, allowing their men to rest for a while.

"What counsel, Elessar?" Legolas asked as he dismounted and approached the two.

"I wish that Gandalf were here," Aragorn answered tiredly, stretching his sore back.

"It is an evil omen that there is magic in Mordor again," Faramir added.

"Aye, that it is," Legolas agreed. "But do not lose hope. This magic may be beyond us, but Alede and her father travel south even now. We will see what counsel they have."

"Very well," Aragorn said. "Let us hope that their counsel will be enough. I do not wish to fight another dark lord. How soon will they arrive?"

Legolas gazed into the distance for a moment, a gesture which Gimli recognized as reaching out for her song.

"She arrives at the Greenwood even now," he said softly, worry coloring his tone.

"Good, then they are not far away."

"Yet, I wish them farther away, for I had hoped to meet Alede there. But she would not wait and so goes to my father even now."

"I told you a long time ago," Gimli said, "Thranduil will not put her off. She will come to you no matter what."

"Aye, I know," Legolas said softly, "but I had wished to be there to protect her from my father's bullying."

~ ~ ~

Alede's stomach twisted itself into such a knot at the sight of the royal pavilion on Mirkwood's western edge that she thought it might choke her. She wished with all her heart that Elrohir were still with them. But the prince of Imladris had only seen them to the pass before heading back to Rivendell.

"Ahh, this is fortuitous," Lomomir said beside her. "My brother has come to meet us. You will not have to travel all the way through the Greenwood to his Hall."

Alede shot him a dirty look. She saw nothing fortuitous about it all.

Lomomir laughed when he caught the look. "Cheer up, young one! At least there is much distance between you and the dungeons here."

"He can always drown me in the river," she grumbled.

Lomomir chuckled, urging his horse forward into a gallop. But Alede kept Faunlend at a walk when the gray would have followed.

"Let us take our time," Alede said patting her horse's neck. "The pack horses carry too precious a cargo to run and I am in no hurry."

By the time Alede and the rest of the group reached the encampment, Lomomir had dismounted and disappeared. Alede assumed he'd gone to find Thranduil.

Two Elves wearing the clothing of the royal household came to great them and directed them to tents which had been erected for their use. They also led their horses away and Alede watched Faunlend leave with a knot of tension in her throat. She would have liked to have tended her herself. But Alede knew that the wish was partially selfish. She just wanted to delay her meeting with Thranduil.

Servants brought in her trunks. Alede went outside, intending to find some water and nearly ran into another of the King's servants.

He bowed to her and Alede tried not to jump like a nervous colt.

"My lady, his majesty King Thranduil requests your presence."

*Requests my presence?* Alede repeated the words to herself silently and angrily. *He does not even send his greetings! He simply requests my presence as if I am a commoner to leap to do his bidding!*

Alede saw her father standing just behind the servant. The resigned look on his face made her pause for only a moment. But she was made of slightly sterner stuff than her gentle father.

Directing her gaze back to the servant, she returned his bow.

"Please give King Thranduil my compliments and my greetings. Please ask if we might indulge his patience for a mere quarter of an hour, so that my company and I may wash away the dirt of the road before we appear before him."

The Elf was obviously taken aback. He opened his mouth to protest, but Alede gave him no time. "Thank you and would you please have someone bring me some water?"

The Elf looked highly offended, but turned on his heals and marched away. Alede let out the breath she'd been holding and looked at her father.

Radagast's eyes were twinkling. "This should be an interesting meeting."

"Interesting?! Don't just stand there Father! Get me something to wash with and help me find my gowns!"

~ ~ ~

King Thranduil heard footsteps approaching and quickly brushed the horsehairs from the front of his elegantly stitched tunic. He had been reacquainting himself with Faunlend while he waited for his unwanted guest and had just now returned to his pavilion.

One of his servants showed Alede inside and Thranduil's eyes swept over her appraisingly. He ignored the two wizards who entered behind her.

Alede approached him and dropped into a deep curtsy.

"Greetings King Thranduil."

He took one step toward her, closing the distance and looked down at her. He said nothing and crossed his arms over his chest. Alede rose from her curtsey. She had been looking at the ground, but now she glanced up and was caught by his gaze just as he had intended. She started to look away nervously, but then Thranduil saw something flicker in her eyes and she returned his stare.

He chuckled inwardly at her defiance and studied her, like a hawk would its prey. She had changed from her traveling clothes obviously. Her gown was of excellent quality and Thranduil recognized the skill of Rivendell in its making. The silky fabric was of the palest green, which he suspected she hoped would bring out the color of her eyes. It was also a subtle reminder of her rank as wizard.

Her face was bright pink from a quick washing and possibly from the effort to hold his gaze. Her hair too had been brushed and the rather rebellious waves cascaded over her shoulders.

She is no beauty, Thranduil thought.

Her nose was slightly crooked and the corners of her mouth were uneven. Her breasts and hips were much too full for an elf to consider attractive. While he knew that humans admired that hourglass type of figure, Elves preferred a woman of willowy proportions.

But her smile, no matter how uneven it was, was sweet and genuine. At least it was when she was smiling at someone else. She'd never smiled at him and at the moment the neutral look on her face appeared quit forced.

Nevertheless, Thranduil knew enough about her to know that kindness and sincerity were Alede's hallmarks.

*And her eyes are a pleasing shade of green.*

While Thranduil knew it was her sweetness that had captured his son's heart, he had to admit to himself that it was her courage he admired.

Not that Thranduil would ever tell her that.

But Alede had a lot of pluck to rescue Legolas from Orthanc and then to answer his first summons to the Greenwood all those years ago. She must have known that she would not receive a warm welcome from Thranduil or his people. She had demonstrated even more courage when facing the Faerie Queen according to Legolas' account.

And he'd certainly heard Legolas' account enough times!

When Legolas had traveled through the Greenwood five years ago, Thranduil had been alarmed to hear of his adventures in the Faerie Kingdom. But as frightening as those events had been, the King had been even more alarmed by Legolas' declaration of love for the mongrel witch.

Their argument had lasted for days. Thranduil had been rather disconcerted to find that his normal methods of persuasion had no effect on his son. Rather, Legolas had remained as stubborn and unmoved as he himself often was. Nor had it helped that the crown prince, Franduil and his wife Elvothien were supportive of Legolas' betrothal.

Legolas had left the Greenwood in a flurry of anger and it was his parting words that had stung Thranduil the most.

'Alede believes you to be the most intelligent of all Elves left on Middle Earth, Father. Yet if that is so, then why are you not wise enough to see what she is, instead of what you wish to believe her to be? For if you did, then you would realize that she is worthy of your admiration, not your scorn.'

Thranduil had brushed those words aside at first, but as his anger subsided over time, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Quietly he'd sent out inquiries about Alede's doings over the short span of her lifetime.

What he had learned had confirmed the suspicions he'd had since Alede's last visit to the Greenwood. She was not the manipulative, mongrel witch he'd initially believed her to be, intent upon snaring a royal husband. Instead she was a woman of deep compassion, strong morals and great courage.

Courage which she now showed as she stood unflinching before the King. Not once had she dropped her eyes during his appraisal of her, though he could see that she was far from easy about it. No mortal could withstand an Elf's steady gaze for more than a moment.

*But then she is not mortal, no matter that she looks like nothing more than a human girl.*

Thranduil stepped back and sat down in the heavily carved chair that his people had provided him in place of his throne.

"I am not in the habit of being kept waiting, Lady Alede."

She gave him another quick curtsy. "My apologies Sire. Surely you would not wish us to come before you bearing the grime of the road? I wished to at least be presentable before giving you my greetings."

Thranduil fought a smile. Her request was perfectly reasonable and her mention of greetings was a tiny reminder that he, as of yet, had given her no greeting. But he would not be taught manners by this slip of a girl, especially when the omission had been deliberate.

Looking past her, he nodded to her father.

"Greetings Lord Radagast. It has been long years since you traveled to the Greenwood."

"Indeed it has, your Majesty. You have our thanks for coming to welcome us."

Thranduil ignored his bow and fixed his eyes on the skinny wizard which approached him. The old man had a haughty, impatient air about him that Thranduil did not care for. How he wished that all wizards had been of Gandalf's caliber.

"May I present Cyrus the Blue, your Majesty?" Radagast said.

The blue robed wizard came forward and bowed. His haughty manner disappeared the moment Thranduil locked eyes with him. The old man seemed to whither and shrink and mumbled something incoherent in his beard. Thranduil looked away with a slight curl to his lips.

He found his gaze returning to Alede and was surprised to find one arched brow raised higher than the other. Obviously she'd been studying him while he was occupied with the other two. The corner of her mouth twitched as she suppressed amusement and a knowing look. Thranduil realized she had guessed that he intimidated Cyrus deliberately.

"There will be a banquet at sundown," he said, turning away from her frank gaze. "That will be all." He made a dismissive gesture and the two wizards turned and walked away. Alede paused for just a moment.

"My thanks, your Majesty," she said. "I look forward to it."

It was only after she had left that Thranduil realized she had gotten the last word in. He would have to curb that habit right away. But even as he contemplated putting her in her place, he smiled at the thought of her cheek. Courage she obviously did not lack.

~ ~ ~

"I have brought you fresh meat!" Zarraweth said as she came up the steep steps dragging something with her.

Maladok's stomach growled hungrily. Zarraweth had been feeding him the rank remains of the Orc's provisions in Barad-Dûr. While his wizard's mind had recoiled at the questionable origin of the tinged meat, his griffon practicality had won out and he had torn into the disgusting carcasses with zeal.

But the provisions had run out a couple of days ago and Zarraweth was not likely to share her food with him. So he looked eagerly toward the tower steps.

The figure that Zarraweth pushed into the tower was not at all what he expected.

Tall and thin as a willow branch, Maladok almost thought it was an emaciated Orc. But then the pitiful creature turned toward him and the filthy hair fell away from its face.

An Elf!

Maladok gazed in horror and astonishment at the Elf. His skin and hair were so dirty that no clue remained of its original color. Festering sores covered his face and legs and his clothing was but blackened tatters.

But worse than that, worse than anything, were the Elf's eyes. Terrified, he gazed up at Maladok without any trace of hope. The soul within was completely shattered.

"Eat well," Zarraweth laughed and then she slammed the heavy door to the tower shut and Maladok heard the click of a key.

"I will not hurt you," Maladok said quickly to the Elf. "I am a wizard. I am not really a griffon. I will not eat you."

But the Elf only cowered away from him, shivering like a frightened rabbit.

"How long have you been a prisoner here?" Maladok asked as gently as his avian voice would permit. He knew that the frightened creature before him could not have been one of the Elves from the battle. It took years and years to break an Elf to this point.

When his question got no reply, Maladok tried another tactic.

"Perhaps you could find a way to loosen my bonds. These manacles have placed me under a spell and I must obey the witch Zarraweth, but if you could find a way to remove them . . ." he trailed off, looking hopefully around the dirty guard tower. The Orcs had left behind plenty of weapons, maybe something could cut through the gold . . .

"That axe over there," Maladok said with a nod of his head. "Gold is soft, perhaps you could notch these manacles deeply enough that I could pry them off. Then the two of us could escape."

The Elf's head came up at the word 'escape'.

Maladok nodded his own ponderous head eagerly. "Yes! If you help set me free, you could ride upon my back. I could fly us both out of here."

The Elf looked at the open battlements and slowly took a step toward them.

"That's it," Maladok encouraged. "I can fly us a long way. What kingdom do you come from? I managed to fly us here from the Angmar Mountains so I am quite certain I could take us to Rivendell. Or if you are from Lothlorien or Mirkwood, they are even closer. I could . . ."

But he stopped abruptly. The Elf had been walking unsteadily toward the battlements as he spoke, which Maladok had taken as a good sign. But now the Elf had actually crawled up on those battlements.

"No wait!" Maladok cried. Perhaps the imprisonment had addled the Elf's mind and he did not realize his danger. The tower was one of the tallest in Barad-Dûr. "Be careful! You have to free me first," Maladok explained. "Then I will fly us . . ." His words ended on a gasp as the Elf spread his arms like a diver about to leap into a lake . . .

And without looking back, without even making a sound, the Elf jumped.

"NO!" Maladok shouted and lunged to the end of his chain. But it was too late.

Mercifully the moaning wind covered the sound of an Elf who'd found his freedom at last.

~ ~ ~

A/N: For anyone unfamiliar with Griffons, here is an excellent picture

*** Original Character List ***

Alede the Green - Witch, healer and wizard. She is daughter of Radagast the Brown. After the death of her mother, she was raised in Rivendell and learned healing skills from Elrond. She also developed a terrible crush on Elrohir, which he has gently teased her about for centuries. She spent some time learning the wizarding craft at Orthanc under the tutelage of Saruman. Because she felt her healer's calling was more important, and because she considered herself a poor wizardess, Alede never completed her training at Orthanc. (Well, duh . . . I guess you knew all that, didn't you? lol!)

Cyrus the Blue - The forth Maia to be sent to Middle Earth and friend to Radagast the Brown. He is a rather cantankerous wizard with a distinct dislike of Elves, Dwarves, horses . . . the list goes on. He's a good person and a fairly accomplished alchemist, but a bit on the cranky side. ;) He made his first appearance in "The Faerie Goblet".

Lomomir - Brother to King Thranduil of Mirkwood and a healer. He has spent the last many years in Rivendell studying with Alede and reading from Elrond's many books and journals. He made his first appearance in "The Caverns of Mirkwood".

Maladok the Red - The fifth Maia sent to Middle Earth. After a disastrous encounter with Saruman, Maladok has become a bit of a "black sheep" in the wizarding world.

Zarraweth - A young human witch with more plans and beauty than is good for her.

Malina - A healer and witch of the Angmar Mountains. She was married to Radagast the Brown and was Alede's mother. She was killed by a mob of religious fanatics who thought her witchcraft had brought plague to a village when instead she had been trying to cure it. Alede was only sixteen when Malina was killed.