THE GRIFFON'S TEARS

Chapter 9 ~ "Dark of the Night"

Alede drifted in the secure warmth of Legolas' embrace. She had intended to place wards about their tiny camp to protect them from any surprises. It was highly possible that Orcs might be roaming these woods. Thanks to the pace that Legolas had set during the day, they were a good distance from the Elvin lands.

But Legolas had promised to stay awake all night. So after overcoming her embarrassment of sleeping with Legolas in front of Gimli, she had gratefully crawled into his arms and settled down beside him, quickly falling asleep.

Her sleep was not restful though. It was plagued by strange dreams and a woman's voice chanting over and over again. Alede's dream-self tried to make sense of the words, but could not quite hear them. The rhythm, the tone of them sounded familiar though.

My mother's incantations, her sleeping mind decided. The voice was drowned out by a high-pitched keening, a sound of agony and grief that came from an avian throat. Alede twisted in her sleep, trying to reach out to the poor tortured creature.

But suddenly she was wrenched violently from sleep as a powerful gust of wind swept down on them, blowing out the remains of their fire and yanking the bedroll off of them. In the dark, Alede heard Gimli cry out in surprise and Legolas' arms tightened around her. Then suddenly they were lifted from the ground.

Alede screamed and grabbed for Legolas, but the wind was so strong it tore her from his grasp. She tumbled through the frigid air, calling out Legolas' name. Several times she thought she bumped into him or perhaps it was Gimli. Vague shapes loomed up in front of her in the dark. Sometimes the wind carried her over them and sometimes it dragged her through them, scraping her through the branches of trees and against rocks. Desperately, she scrabbled for purchase, trying to catch hold of something, anything.

Orange lights appeared beneath her. Blinking dust and grit from her eyes, she tried to focus on it. But always the wind tumbled her about and she could not get her bearings. An immense object rose in front of her and she threw her arms in front of her in a vain effort to protect her face. But just as she thought she would crash into it, she was tossed under an arch and slammed into an unyielding stone floor.

"Oooh," the sound came out as a groan as Alede slowly rolled over and tried to sit up. Beside her, she saw Legolas and Gimli in equally disheveled lumps. She was just about to ask if they were injured, when a voice spoke.

"How good of you to come visit me."

Alede's head snapped up and she stared into a pair of leaf green eyes surrounded by a cloud of raven black hair.

Wincing with pain, Alede stood up facing the dark witch across a long hall. Torches guttered along the immense walls and standing in a ring about them were at least three dozen Orcs. Alede ignored the Orcs. She could easily deal with them, even without her staff. But the witch before her . . .

She was incredibly beautiful. So much so that Alede's heart ached with envy and she felt shabby and plain in comparison. Beside her, Legolas rose to his feet and the look of astonishment on his face told Alede that he too was surprised by the witch's beauty.

Angrily, Alede turned back to the witch.

"What is your name and what is your purpose? I need not ask you where you are from. It is obvious that you are Angmarian."

"My name?" the dark witch purred. "Surely you must know that it is impolite to ask another witch's name?"

"You'll have to forgive me," Alede spat. "I'm not feeling particularly polite at the moment."

"Tsk, tsk," the witch shook her head and laughed, a tiny silvery sound. "Such manners. And yet I have brought you here as my guests."

"Like the 'guest' you have imprisoned in your tower?" Legolas spoke for the first time.

"I do not know who you mean," the witch replied silkily.

"The griffon. Release him."

"Oh, but I couldn't do that," the witch purred. "He and I are such good friends."

While the witch simpered at Legolas, Alede slowly approached the large table between them. She dare not get too close, but just close enough . . .

"You do have my mother's books!" she shouted after spying several weathered covers written in her mother's spidery script. Darting forward, Alede tried to seize them, but the witch made a gesture at her and spoke a spell. Alede was thrown backwards and dropped to the floor.

She looked up at the witch in amazement. The dark witch carried only a willow wand, yet she had used a very powerful spell. How could it be that it carried so much power and how could someone so young know so much? Alede guessed her to be no more than nineteen or twenty.

The witch laughed at what must have been a very ridiculous look on Alede's face.

"Seize them," she cried suddenly and the Orcs surged forward. Gimli let out a roar and grabbed the first one that reached him and threw him at the wall. Legolas ducked and spun, running to the wall and catching a torch. He succeeded in lighting three of the filthy creatures on fire, before Alede was forced to contend with her own problems.

Without her staff, she could still perform magic, but it was poorly aimed and often went astray of her target. Whirling around, she threw a flaming spell at several of the Orcs and then suddenly found herself suspended in the air. The dark witch below her laughed and hurled her upward toward the ceiling. Alede spoke her own spell to slow her ascent.

It worked and she was able to drop clumsily to the ground. But then a new danger came into the hall. Gimli had managed to grab a spear and Legolas was easily out maneuvering his enemies. The floor of the hall seemed to vibrate and a huge mountain troll stumped into the room. Before Alede could even shout a warning, it swung its enormous club and caught Gimli, sending the dwarf flying against the wall. Alede heard a sickening crunch.

Heedless of her own danger, she rushed to his aid, terrified of what she would find. But before she could reach him a spell caught her, stopping her in her tracks as a wall of ice formed around her. Frantically she beat at the wall with her own spells, but was unable to break through it.

To her horror, she saw Legolas spring toward her only to be brought down by a mass of Orcs. They surrounded him quickly, cutting him off from her view. She thought she saw him go down beneath their weight and then their spears rose and fell and bright blood slid out on the floor beneath their feet.

"NO!!!" Alede felt as if her heart would burst as the word tore out of her throat.

She screamed . . .

And woke up in Legolas' arms.

~ ~ ~

It took her a full, disoriented moment to realize where she was. But there was Legolas bending over her, cradling her in his arms, his face drawn with worry but very much alive. Gimli hovered in her vision as well, his beard bristling in his agitation. Behind him their tiny campfire had been fanned to life and bathed them all in its comforting glow. The bedroll was wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her warm.

Alede's hands flew to Legolas' face, searching it for injury, though already she knew that it had only been a dream. She drew in a ragged breath, feeling as if she had just run up a mountainside. There was a roaring in her ears, which she had mistaken for the sound of the battle she had just dreamed, but she slowly realized it was the sound of Legolas and Gimli's songs instead. It invaded her head with the force of a waterfall and she realized that it was their combined song which had pulled her out of the nightmare.

Legolas' lips moved, but Alede could not hear him. She shook her head and he turned to Gimli. The roaring of their song subsided to just Legolas' silky whisper and she struggled to sit up.

"Are you all right, Alede?"

She nodded, embracing him and burying her head against his chest. She reached out and caught Gimli's hand as she sobbed against Legolas. He let her cry, softly stroking her back until she finally calmed.

"You were dreaming. I could not wake you," Legolas said, the worry evident on his face and in his voice.

"She sent a Dream Demon," Alede said shakily.

"A what?" Gimli asked. "I have never heard of that."

"Very few have," Alede said quietly. "Because most never live to tell of it."

"You mean that she could have killed you with that dream?" Legolas asked, his grip on her shoulders panicky.

Alede nodded. "It is an ancient spell. My mother told me about it, though she never used it. It is considered black magic. The dreamer dreams his own death and the shock kills him." She remembered the troll in her dream. It had been lumbering toward her as she had watched the Orcs kill Legolas. No doubt it would have attacked her next. The ice wall that the witch had formed around her would not have stood up to its club.

"This witch must be very powerful," Gimli said nervously.

"Yes . . ." Alede said slowly, remembering details of her dream. "She has the power of my mother's words and she has the power from the griffon's tears. But . . ."

"What is it?" Legolas asked gently.

"She used her name to bind the spells."

Gimli and Legolas exchanged a glance. Obviously the significance of that meant nothing to them.

"For the really difficult incantations, a green witch must sometimes use a name to bind the magic," Alede explained. "That is why witches never give their real name to one who might be an enemy. But this witch used her own name, since she does not have mine."

"What does that indicate?" Legolas asked, offering her a drink from his water skin.

"It means she is young and inexperienced. It means . . . that I know her name."

Zarraweth.

~ ~ ~

Romiël started awake. But before she could curl into a protective ball, she remembered where she was. The griffon's chest hovered above her, his down fluffed over her as if she were a scrawny egg he wished to hatch. Beneath her were the filthy rags of one of the Orcs he had eaten, a process she had watched without any remorse whatsoever.

But then she had felt nothing for centuries. Hope, compassion, anger . . . they had all disappeared behind the fragile barrier she had erected in her mind. Fear and pain had become her only emotions, causing her to live with little more sentience than a rat cowering in a corner. She ate when the Orcs brought her food and she drank when water was placed in front of her. But other than that she existed in a tiny ball of pain and dread and had taken no notice of her fellow captives for centuries.

She had at first, of course, when they had originally been captured and brought as toys for Sau . . .

*No* She could not even think His name. Even the whisper of it in her mind caused her to go into a shivering, staring mass of flesh that bore no resemblance to the strong she-Elf that had defiantly been dragged into Barad-Dûr.

In those early days, she had shuddered and cried bitter tears over the torture that her fellows had endured. Many of them had died, some at the hands of the Orcs who made sport with them. Some had died after being taken to . . . Him. They had been returned to the cell, staring blindly in front of them with not a mark upon their pale bodies. But . . . they had died.

Countless other horrors she had endured, until she too had lost her will to live, to even think, and pain became her world.

But that fragile little wall in the back of her mind had remained, in spite of all that she had endured, in spite of all the years in darkness. She had once been strong and independent and on the day that the ground had shook and Barad-Dûr had cracked, she had slowly begun gaining back what tiny bit of her strength had remained.

He . . . had not sent for them after that day. Only the Orcs had occasionally tormented them, but even that was rare. And what were Orcs compared to . . .

Blocking the hideous name from her mind, she looked around the cold tower filled with bones of Orcs and discarded weapons. Romiël felt a surge of hope unlike anything she had felt since coming to this hell. Moving slowly, she pulled out the knife she had confiscated and looked at it in the dim light of night. It was strong blade and as she turned it, a pale white light winked off of its surface. Looking up, Romiël saw a sight she had not seen in . . .

The years blurred before her, as did the bright star that winked at her through the tower arches.

*How many centuries have been taken from me!?*

Anger spilled over the little wall in her mind to join the tiny thread of hope. And with it came courage. Wiggling out from under the griffon, she looked up at him.

Even in sleep, he was magnificent, a creature of ancient magic, nearly as old as the First-born themselves. The very sight of his glossy feathers and powerful talons gave her strength.

"Griffon?" she whispered.

He did not wake, but stirred in his sleep, snapping his beak as if plagued by flies. The look on his face seemed slightly comical as he twitched and ground his beak. With a gasp of surprise, a tiny laugh escaped Romiël's lips. She had not laughed for centuries and the sensation felt strange to her.

But if she could escape and help the others to escape . . .

Reaching out a weak hand, she stroked the shining feathers and the griffon awoke.

"What is wrong, little Elf?" the griffon said, raising his head quickly and looking around.

"What happened to . . ." She could not speak the name and wrapped her arms about her legs as the shivering started. Clearing her dry throat, she tried again. "What happened to . . . the one who built this tower?"

"Sssauron was thrown down," the griffon answered and there was pride in his voice. "One of my kind . . . one who isss, asss I once wasss, helped to bring about his dessstruction."

"Then . . ." hope surged so brightly in her breast it hurt, "there is no one to keep me here but Orcs and that woman?"

"Yesss, but that woman isss a witch. Ssshe hasss dark plansss. Ssshe uses usss."

Romiël did not respond to that, but began sawing at the gold manacles around his legs with her knife, trying to score the soft metal enough that they might be broken. If they were no longer there, the witch could not use them for her dark plans.

"Nay. Ignore the manaclesss," the griffon hissed. "I concurred them daysss passst. Work on the one that bindssss my neck."

Shakily Romiël got to her feet and began picking at the lock on the griffon's collar. Because her focus was on the lock, she did not see the look of fierce pride on the griffon's face or know that he admired her for her courage.

The blade was much too big to work into the crude lock, so Romiël abandoned it and went in search of something better. She went down onto her hands and knees, scrabbling in the filth and scraps of armor on the floor. Her fingers closed upon a long spike that once had pierced the nose of an Orc. Rushing back to the griffon as quickly as her weakened legs would carry her, she raised the spike to the lock . . .

And froze as a dark shadow swept in through the arches of the tower. It touched down without a sound and the griffon rose to his feet, throwing out his wings and hissed.

~ ~ ~

NOTICE: I will not be posting next Friday, but the Friday after instead. I am so sorry to do that to you, especially with this dark shadow looming down on poor Romiël and the griffon!!! But we're remodeling our kitchen right now, so I haven't had much time to be on the computer. Then last night as I was chatting with my Dad on the phone, I looked up to see water dripping from my ceiling. ARRRGGGGG! So now I've got to call the roofing company, see if our warranty is still good, have them come out, yadda, yadda, yadda . . .

Anyway, I apologize for the delay. I promise I'll post chapter 10 on May 9th. Thanks for being so patient with me. You guys are terrific!

A/N: Giving credit where it's due: Several of you have been kind enough to say that my plots are well thought out. If that is true, then I must give the credit where it is due. It is because of you, dear readers that I try to make the plots well planned. You ask intelligent questions in your reviews, make brilliant deductions and are very astute readers. Because of your vigilance and enthusiastic support I try, not only to keep ahead of you, but also to offer you something that will stimulate your imagination. I meant it before when I said that you are the best readers any author could have and I'm so grateful for each and every one of you whether you post reviews or not. So . . . give yourselves a round of applause! :D :D

Firnsarnien mentioned that these stories are interconnected very well. That is Thecla's brilliance at work. She is a stickler for details and remembers word for word everything I've ever written. If I contradict myself, she catches it immediately and quotes my own previous work at me. lol! Thank God! She keeps me treading the straight and narrow and I would be lost without her! :D

*** 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 for a while and learned healing skills from Elrond. She also developed a terrible crush on Elrohir, which he has gently teased her about for centuries. She also 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.

Cyrus the Blue - The forth Maia to be sent to Middle Earth and friend to Radagast the Brown

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.

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.

Mändel - Legolas' steward. He originally served under Thranduil in Mirkwood in a lesser position.

Galomir - Ithilien's healer.

Girwyn - A general in Legolas' army. He is in charge of Ithilien's security.

Nimhith - A she-Elf of Eryn Culhallas, assigned by Legolas to be Alede's lady's maid.

Romiël - A she-Elf captured 700 years ago by Sauron as her people were making their way to the Gray Havens.