The Fifth Age

By Glorfindel's Girl

Chapter 3: And So It Begins

Disclaimer:  Honestly, now, I said it in the previous chapters.  Need I repeat myself? 

Warnings:  Liberal use of the English language invoked here in this chapter.  Translation: That rating didn't suddenly dip down to 'R' for nothing.  Cover your eyes, kiddies, there's going to be some bad language. 

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Somewhere in the United Kingdom……

"Can we move any fucking slower?!?" Tamara Peterson shouted to her camera crew, her voice echoing throughout the cavern.  One of her cameramen paused long enough to hitch up his pants and shoot her the finger before continuing setting up the video camera.  "Love you too, sweetheart," Tamara yelled, her voice practically dripping with sarcasm.  "Get the goddamned camera set up." 

It had taken her ten years to come this far.  Ten years of putting up with small time local news stations – ten years of fucking every station manager and network president who came her way in hopes of getting promoted.  From the very beginning she was determined to make it big, and was willing to do whatever it took.  Finally, her work had paid off when CNN hired her for an on-site reporter in the UK.  In her mind, it was only a matter of time before she had her own prime time anchor spot on the network.  She was going to be big – very big – and she was not about to let some fat assed camera technician screw over her first step by delaying her live shoot.

She glared at the technician's rear for a minute, trying to bore holes into his pants with her eyes.  No use.  His jeans looked no closer to splitting than usual.  She turned away before they had a chance to slip down further. 

Tamara surveyed the massive cavern around her, turning in a circle as she did so.  Carved stone pillars rose a hundred feet to meet with the natural ceiling.  About a hundred feet behind her, the ground dropped off abruptly into a deep chasm that was at least 200 feet wide.  A narrow finger of rock extended about half way across the abyss almost like a bridge.  Tamara briefly considered walking out onto it, but quickly decided against her.  With her luck, it would break off the rest of the way as soon as she stepped fully onto it. 

The place gave her the creeps, and that was precisely why she was there.  The caverns had been discovered less than two weeks ago, yet they were now utterly deserted.  She was there specifically because of that, because of what the excavationers had reported.  Shrieks that came from deep within the cavern, or cave, or mine, or whatever you wanted to call it.  The sound of hammering, when no one was working on excavation work.  Almost human shapes that they would catch out of the corner of their eyes, but would vanish before they had a chance to see clearly.  The constant prickling sensation on the backs of their necks, like they were being watched by someone, something.  The almost overwhelming sense that they should not be there.

The first day, 17 people had left the excavation team, saying only that  something was in those caverns that didn't need to be disturbed.  By the end of the first week, less than half the crew remained.  Then three of the crewmembers turned up missing.  When a mangled and bloody piece of cloth was found that was identified as one of the missing men's shirts, the remaining crewmembers left as quickly as they could.  The following search crews had found no sign of the missing men. 

Every news station in Britain and the United States had been covering the search operation, but only Tamara Peterson had been willing to actually broadcast from inside the caverns.  She was going to be big, and this would be her push to stardom.

"Hey!  We're ready to start filming over here," the camera technician shouted.  Tamara pushed back her urge to make a snide come back and instead positioned herself in front of the camera.  She had just enough time to check her hair before the camera light blinked on and she was broadcast live onto thousands of TV screens world wide.  Time for her big break.

Several thousand miles away, a man watched the news intently from his hotel room in Bangkok.  He stared in shocked recognition at the caverns the attractive news anchor was standing in.

 "Khazad-dum," he murmured.  A word he could never forget.  A place that should never have been found again.

"As you can see," the news anchor started in, "We are broadcasting live from within the caverns where the three men disappeared.  Authorities are still unable to offer any explanation for their disappearances, and as you may imagine, speculation is beginning…"

The anchor's monologue was interrupted by a sharp metallic sound from somewhere off camera.  The sound of hammering.  The anchor frowned, then continued.

"As I was saying, speculation surrounding the cause of their disappearances has grown, with people proposing such possible answers as…"

A hideous cry split the air, starting at a low pitch and rising sharply.  As suddenly as it had began, it stopped.  The man in sitting in the hotel room closed his eyes.  He knew what was coming.  DrumsDrums in the deep.  Another cry sounded, and he reopened his eyes.  We cannot get out.  The anchor looked scared.  Very scared.  They are coming.

"That's it," she said sharply, moving toward the camera.  "We're packing up. Now."  But it was too late.  The camera crew's screams could be heard as millions of TV viewers world wide watched in horror.  Swarms of nightmarish creatures appeared from seemingly nowhere, surrounding the woman where she still stood in front of the camera.  One of the monsters moved forward, grabbed Tamara, pulled her head back, and slowly cut her throat with a black-bladed knife. Her eyes flew open wide, and she made a move as though to cry out, but no sound came.  The beast released her, and she sank slowly to the floor. 

The man in the hotel room shut off his TV.  He had seen enough.  He stood, pulled on his jacket, and opened the door to his room.

"It is beginning," he muttered under his breath as he stepped outside, slamming the door behind him.