Chapter Fifteen
The Light of the Trees
The vastness of Moria swallowed them as a great fish might do to bait, enveloping them in darkness where things lurked in silence, waiting for the perfect moment of weakness to strike.
This, Elladan felt more strongly than he felt the heart beating within his breast. Despite the company escaping the reach of the Uruk Hai for the moment, Elladan knew that the threat he had sensed from above was not simply the presence of the enemy's warriors but something that had been lingering here for many ages. Possibly even from as far back as the time of the elves departure from the world of men.
Durin's folk had abandoned Moria in the Fourth Age and their disappearance in Arda was a mystery that Elladan intended to discuss once they had returned to Valinor. That is if they were able to escape Moria with their lives. The world of men did not know Durin's folk except as figments of tales told to children. They did not know of the magnificent craftsman who had built the great hall through which they had passed earlier. Seeing the realm of Dwarrowdelf abandoned saddened the elf somewhat and he wondered where the dwarfs had gone in the face of the increasingly alien world developing around them. No doubt their cities were so deep beneath the earth that no one, not even man with his remarkable machines could find them. He thought of Gimli and how Legolas Greenleaf had wept the day the dwarf passed and knew that for the dwarfs, there would be no resurrection until after the earth was built anew. It was a shame really because he sensed the dwarfs would have greatly enjoyed man's advancements in the present age.
It was a question for another time he decided, because at the moment Elladan was certain that while the dwarfs had abandoned Dwarrodelf, it was not empty. He had suspicions about what had taken up residence here since the departure of the dwarfs and with all the commotion they had caused in escaping the Uruks, Elladan had no doubt that Moria's present tenants were perfectly aware of their existence and on the move. He looked at Elrohir and saw the same concern in his brother's face. Being twins, they knew each other well enough to dispense with the need to communicate using words. Sharing the same blood and the same womb had bonded their souls in a way that allowed them to discern each other's thoughts by simple instinct.
Elrohir knew as well as he what was coming and feared that their time was growing short.
Unfortunately, the dim light within the intermittent passages of stone and natural terrain made it exceedingly difficult to track the children. They had been running for quite some time, lengthening the distance between themselves and the Uruks without encountering either. He had no doubt that the Uruks were fanning out or waiting for orders from their Nazgul masters whose presence Elladan could also sense. All their enemies were rallied together in one place, making these tunnels they were moving through a labyrinth of death.
"This place is too bloody big," Eric complained as they paused at a crossroad of tunnels and corridors. He was leaning against a wall, taking deep breaths after running all that way from the lift. "We're never going to find these kids at this rate, not with everyone of those things hunting us."
"We have to try," Miranda said firmly, pacing the ground like a caged animal, needing to react even if there was nothing to react to. She too was beginning to see futility in their search even if she was incapable of admitting it. Driven by instincts older than civilisation, she was compelled by a mother's instincts and would continue to search while there was breath left in body to do it.
"The Nazgul are here," Elrohir informed the humans needing them to understand just how urgent the situation was. "We sense their presence."
"The Nazgul?" Miranda stared at him, "do you know where?"
"Close," he answered, "but do we really wish to face them?"
"Yes," Miranda nodded, "because they may be where the kids are." She did not add that it was very possible that Frank was here too. After all, both Frank and Miranda had known that he could not delay them indefinitely and it was unlikely that they would relinquish their hold on him once he was in their clutches, whether or not he did have the Silmaril.
"We're going to die sometime," Jason replied, agreeing with Miranda's assertion although he was starting to believe that none of them would ever see daylight again. However, if he were to die, he would prefer it facing the enemy instead of roaming these dark and sinister catacombs waiting to be taken by something lurking in the shadows. "Better this way than any other," he added.
"I admire your ability to make such a measured choice," Eric gave him a look but then faced the others, "she's right. We're not going to get to them playing safe. Let's go to root of the problem."
Elladan and Elrohir traded glances, conveying to each other their gratitude and admiration for their companions. There was nothing the brothers loved more than a good battle, even if it did appear to be hopeless. After living for so long, death was the one experience they had yet to share and did not fear it.
"Then we best hurry," Elrohir remarked with a grin. "Today is a good day to die."
"Very Klingon," Eric retorted rolling his eyes.
***********
.
The prey was faltering.
It could sense its exhaustion, could see it by the erratic tracks left in its wake. It had been maintaining the pursuit for a good distance now and the prey's ability to keep ahead was not only adept but also challenging. Blind panic fuelled the prey's desire to push on, urging it to continue even though its strength was wanning. It could smell the salt of the youngling's fear, an aromatic bouquet that filtered through its senses and brought alive all the hungered impulses in its body. It drew its teeth back savouring the pleasure of it, its tongue quivering with anticipation of the fresh kill.
It could hear the heavy pants of the prey's breath, could hear the whimpers of terror as the youngling ran, trying to stay ahead of its teeth, of its sharp claws that would tear and rend. It would be a slow kill, it had decided. A meal as fine as this should not be squandered, it had to be savoured and relished. To simply devour would mean losing it to memory and it may be quite some time, if ever, that it had a chance to feed like this again. It heard an abrupt sound and uttered a growl of satisfaction, knowing it had come from the youngling who had stumbled during the chase. The prey's exhaustion was almost complete.
It would not be long now.
***********
If Pip had been able to manage a thought, that thought would have surely been to acknowledge that was going to die.
He had not even dared to look over his shoulder to see what it was that was chasing him. All he knew was that it was big, ferocious and not about to let him escape. Pip ran at breakneck speed, pouring all the energy that was capable of being wrung from a five-year-old terrified out of his mind. He felt as if he could not breathe as if the oxygen entering his lungs was disappearing up the instant it entered his nose. He knew he could not maintain this pace for long. Even now, his limbs were screaming for respite. However stopping would mean nothing less than his death. He knew it as certainly as he knew that was what chasing him was terrible and monstrous.
Scrambling frantically through the passages, Pip paid little attention to where he was going, only that he was running for his life. A rock in his path sent him tumbling into the dirt, scraping his elbows and his chin against the hard surface. He heard the soft padding footsteps of the beast behind him and had no time to whimper or cry out in pain before he was up on his feet, running again. He could feel blood on his cut chin and his elbows burned with pain but Pip forced himself to ignore it. He knew he could not keep this up. Each breath was becoming more strained. He wanted to cry at his helplessness but Pip dared not waste his strength on that.
Forging on ahead, he caught sight of something. A fissure in the rock. It was not very big, barely a wedge really but suddenly, it became his only chance for survival. Pip headed towards it as he heard the growls behind him intensify as if the beast knew what he was intending and felt it necessary to issue warning to stay away from the grotto. The creature's insistence of it inspired Pip to pour all his remaining energy into reaching the opening. He heard the steps of the beast quicken as it attempted to reach him before he made the entry. Pip saw the mouth of the grotto beckoning him with invitation as he closed the distance and taxed the last of his reserves in a singular burst of speed.
He reached it as he heard the footsteps behind him pause followed by a powerful roar that made the cavern quake. He was oblivious to everything as except the ope mouth of the grotto that rushed to greet him with its swallowing darkness. The entrance was narrow and Pip had to slip in sideways or else he would not have been able to enter it at all. The grotto was little more than a wedge in the wall and Pip pushed himself as far towards the back as he could. There was a moment of silence when he turned around and faced the opening, praying that it was too small for the monster to follow.
A shadow fell over the entrance, preceding the swipe of a powerful foreleg attached to an even more lethal set of claws. Razor sharp, they slashed Pip across the thigh and drew a high-pitched scream of pain as blood washed over his torn flesh. The beast uttered another furious growl at the scent of his blood and attempted to force its massive head through the wedge unsuccessfully before it was forced to withdraw in frustration. Pip shrunk deeper into the grotto, until his back was digging into the rock, biting down on his lip to control the stinging pain of his leg and his urge to cry. The creature continued to take swipes, slashing the inside of the grotto with its sharp claws in a desperate to reach him. Pip controlled himself as long as he could but in the end, fear and anger own out and he shouted at it to go away, praying that the beast would tire of this stalemate and leave.
Unfortunately, it didn't.
*************
"Did you hear?" Elladan looked at his brother, pausing in midstep.
"Yes," Elrohir nodded halting their progress through the tunnel that would take them to the Nazgul.
"What is it?" Miranda asked, her hands tightening cautiously around her gun.
Elladan did not answer; instead he turned up another path, one that seemed to lead away from the lighted tunnels of this underground city. His brother fell into step as they ignored the smell of dank air and the fetid stench of things fel and terrible. Thanks to their elven hearing, he and Elrohir could hear the cries of desperation far sooner than the humans in their company. It was just as well, he thought as his hasty steps broke into a run upon identifying the source of those cries. If Miranda knew what he suspected; they would be delayed unnecessarily by questions they had no time to answer.
"It comes from this way," Elrohir gestured towards another crossroads, using the intensifying sounds as a guide.
"What is it?" Miranda demanded. "What are you hearing?"
"There is no time!" Elladan snapped and continued running. He increased his speed and raced down the tunnel, grateful that his superior eyesight allowed him to see in the fading light. The screams were interlaced by something else now, the growls of an animal that was surely as powerful as its savage snarls seemed to indicate. They had very little time to act and saw Elrohir was already loading his bow.
Miranda was to make another demand when suddenly the sounds that had set the elves upon their course reached her ears and brushed away instantly and further questions in her mind. Her heart froze in her chest and suddenly a burst of power surged through her that rivalled that capable by any elf. Lowering her gun, she ran faster than she had ever run in her entire life, knowing that every second counted. The elves were ahead and she felt some measure of comfort knowing that they had the stamina to reach their destination first.
The roar that filled their ears when they reached the source of the commotion came from a beast almost the size of a large bear. However, it had not the sluggish movements of that creature. Its pelt was dark silver; almost black that heaved like the ripples on water upon their arrival. It turned its massive head towards them and glared with eyes that looked like the twin orbs of a yellow moon. It drew back its jaws and revealed powerful fangs, glistening with saliva, enraged that its meal had been intruded upon. It bellowed at the new arrivals in a powerful roar of fury that revibrated through the stone. It retreated from the narrow fissure in the rock and took a running leap at Elrohir, more than ready to rip out his throat.
However, the elf was more than ready for the beast.
Releasing his bowstring, an arrow slammed into the creature's body, causing it to lose control of its pounce. It fell away and rolled across the ground, deterred in its course but not about to give up either. It snarled at them in its pain and prepared to launch itself again when Jason opened fire, emptying a barrage of shells into his massive body. The creature, caught in the shower of lead, could do little but jerk about spasmodically as it howled in pain. Blood splattered outward from ripped flesh, fur and meat wetting the ground as the sound of gunfire eclipsed its angry screams of dying. Jason did not know how long his finger remained on the trigger but he did not depress it until the creature landed heavily on its side and moved no more.
"What the hell is that?" Eric managed to ask when the sound of gunfire had died away.
"It is a warg," Elladan remarked staring at the dead beast.
"A warg?" Jason looked at the elf for a more detailed explanation.
"It is one of Sauron's creatures," Elrohir offered, "they were allies with the dark ones. Orcs used to use them as beasts of burden, the way we ride horses."
Miranda paid little attention to their discussion because she could care less about the creature, only what it had intended as its prey. She dropped her gun on the ground at her feet and continued towards the grotto where she could hear sounds of sobbing and fear. Her heart was pounding inside of her because she recognised those tears all too well. How many times had she heard it when consoling a skimmed knee or some childhood mishap that only a mother's touch could soothe? Those tears had more power over her than any rapist in Belfast. It broke her heart every time she heard it. Reaching the entrance, she peered through the opening and saw huddled in a corner, to her indescribable joy, her son.
"Pip," she called softly, "its mummy."
There was a blur of movement after his eyes turned at the sound of the voice where he tore himself out of the corner and fairly flung himself out of the grotto in order to reach her.
"MUM!" Pip cried out joyously as he wrapped his arms around her mother and felt even happier when she embrace him in turn.
Miranda did not think that there was any feeling that could describe how she felt the instant she held her youngest child in her arms again. All she wanted to do was to remain in this place, so she could hold him forever. When she had recognised those cries as his, Miranda thought she would die from the despair of it. Now that he was returned to her, she could not recall being so grateful for anything in her entire life. Miranda did not realise she was crying as she held him but eve if she had noticed, she would hardly care. Her child was safe and that was all that mattered.
"Don't cry mum," Pip said pulling away from her. "Don't be sad."
Miranda laughed softly as she saw him concerned and kissed his forehead, "I'm not sad," she said smiling. "I'm so happy to see you."
The remark caused another hug between mother and child and those who bore witness to it could not deny that they too were experiencing emotions of happiness at seeing this reunion come to pass.
"Mummy, you found us!" Pip said with wonder and awe when they parted. "Sam said you would!"
Her joy had been such that for a brief second, Miranda had forgotten about Sam. That fact and the realisation that Pip's leg was smeared in blood mortified her. "Are you all right?" Miranda struggled to speak, her eyes brimming with tears as she examined him and saw the wound on his leg. "You're hurt!"
"The monster," Pip volunteered, his small face wrinkling in pain. "He scratched me."
"Don't you worry about him," Miranda said not even casting an eye at the creature who did this to her son because she was too concern with tending to the wound. "Nothing is going to hurt you again, I promise. I love you Pip, god in heaven I love you so much!" She said embracing him again.
"Mum!" Pip suddenly remembered Sam and pushed away from his mother even though it felt very, very nice to have her hold him again. "You have to help Sam! They hurt him."
"Hurt him?" Miranda's eyes hardened to granite. "How?"
"They cut him," Pip answered. "He was bleeding in the shoulder mummy, I think he's going to die if we don't help him."
"Nobody's going to die little one," Elrohir said to the boy. "But we must hurry my lady, we cannot linger here. If he is hurt then we must find the Nazgul to reach him."
"Yes you're right," Miranda said with new purpose. "Come on Pip, let's go find Sam."
**********
Time had run out.
As Frank Miller regarded the Nazgul waiting for an answer, he knew that he had nothing left to bargain with. Ingenuity and sheer stubbornness had brought him this far but now that was nothing left to gamble with, no trick he could use to delay the inevitable. His child was in his arms, dying. He looked at Sam's face and knew the boy was fighting to stay alive but it was a battle he was simply not equipped to fight. He should not have had to. Frank wiped the moisture from Sam's clammy skin as if it would hold back the tide of whatever that was consuming him and knew he had to act before it was late. Frank had thought he had felt helpless when he had seen the Nazgul take Sam and Pip but it was nothing in comparison to the despair that filled him now.
"I am waiting," the harsh voice of Morgul demanded once more, piercing his skin like icicles. "Where is the Silmaril?"
"You'll kill us both if I tell you," Frank glared at him, aware that he was stalling for time.
"I will kill one of you that is for certain," Morgul answered, aware that the human attempting to delay the inevitable. He could almost smell the man's desperation. It pleased him greatly even though it made Morgul wish that it was Miranda here, not her spouse who was in this unforgiving situation. The moment would taste all the more sweet if she were. "You can either save your son's life or hasten his journey but make no mistake, we will have your answer now."
Frank closed his eyes feeling the walls of his cage shrinking around him, trapping him in its totality as he was faced with the decision he knew he could no longer avoid, no matter what the cost. He hoped that Miranda understood that he had to do it. If there was even the slightest possibility that this 'thing' could save Sam, then he had to try.
"I don't have it," Frank finally spoke and the words escaped him like blood escaping stone.
"That is obvious," Morgul hissed and prepared to speak again when suddenly he paused and looked at his brothers. They were reacting in much the same way. Something had stirred them just as he had been. He cast his gaze back to Frank and replied. "I no longer need you to tell me the truth. The Silmaril draws close."
Frank's eyes widened. Miranda was here!
Hope began to flood inside of him. If he could just hold out until they arrive. He could get Sam out of here and get him to a doctor. He glanced down as his son whose body was shuddering from the effects of the wound. Seeing him in this way tore Frank's heart to a thousand pieces. He had to get help. He could not face the possibility of having to bury his own child.
"What about my son?" Frank asked. "You said you could help him."
Morgul turned to him and started to laugh. It was a deeply offensive sound full of malice and hatred. Frank felt his blood turn cold as he started to realise that Morgul had been playing him, that this Nazgul never had any intention of helping him.
"Help him?" Morgul gloated as he faced Frank. The others were scattering throughout the room, preparing for a fight. "Why would I help the Ringbearer? This little cretin is the cause of all this! If it were not for him and his master, our lord Sauron would have ruled the world until the end of time. An empire was destroyed the instant your son and his compatriot flung what was not theirs into the pits of Mount Doom. Did you think I would let him go? Or live for that matter? I hate him almost as much as the bitch dog you married. I almost killed you once Faramir of Gondor and that is who you are. This shell you wear is nothing, a skin covering the forgotten child of Denethor. You would have died by my hand if not for Isildur's upstart progeny. I could kill you now but it would avail us nothing. I am after all not unreasonable and if you are willing to listen, I think we can come to some arrangement."
"Not bloody likely!" Frank shouted. "You've shown very little ability to keep us against our wills. We'll get out of here and we'll get Sam help, without you!" It was an empty threat and he knew it but Frank was past caring.
"You stupid human," Morgul looked at him. "Did you think I would harm your child out of sheer vengeance, while my lord is still a prisoner in Valinor? My lord's lover believed that fear for your children's lives would force your cooperation in negotiating for us with his captors, but I know your kind too well and I know treachery for even longer. Your child will die unless you go to Valinor. The help you seek can only found there. There is at this moment, a plane waiting in a hangar outside Goslar. When your woman arrives here with the Silmaril, you will be taken there to make the flight. The Valar will let you pass through the veil because of what you carry. You will negotiate for us and bring back our lord and only then will your son be returned to you."
"He will die before that!" Frank declared.
"The poison takes times to work," Morgul answered. "I crafted the Morgul blade specifically for the purpose. You have four days, no more. If you do not return to us in that time, your son will join us, a fitting end for a Ringbearer."
He was lying, Frank was certain of it. Sam did not have four days. He did not doubt that a cure could be found in Valinor but Frank would never get it to Sam in time for it to be of any use. Morgul had said it himself; he hated Sam as much as he hated Miranda. He would not consciously allow Sam to be helped if he could prevent it. Everything he was saying to Frank now was a lie, Frank knew it was just a ruse to trick him into cooperating.
He was desperate. He had to find a way out this situation. He knew the Valar would not willingly allow Saeran to go free, not for the life of one human child. The Nazgul were trapped by the belief that the Valar were the antithesis of their master, who would see no difficulty in sacrificing a child for his own ends. They did not think that Valar capable of making the hard choices. Frank however, was not so blinded. Even if he agreed to negotiate for their master's release, Frank would not be saving Sam. All he would accomplish by carrying out the Nazgul's plans would be to expose Sam to an enemy who had even more reason to want him dead than these Nazgul servants.
Helping the Nazgul was not an option. However, what Morgul had said about a plane waiting to take him to Valinor was.
He had no idea how this barrier between worlds functioned, only that the paradise world of the elves was protected by it. Only the elves could pass through the barrier and those who journeyed with them. That was how Bryan had been sequestered away. The twins had said that they could return with a ship built specifically by a group of elves called the Teleri, that no other vessel reach Valinor otherwise. However, none of those vessel carried with them the Silmaril and something that had once been a part of the great trees that had given light to the world, could be felt. If these Nazgul could feel it then the Valar had to as well.
Frank had to believe that or the plan he formed in his mind would die in the making and with it, his son.
"You are right," Frank swallowed as his gaze dropped to the ground, scraping the dirt-covered floor in a gesture of submission. "You win. I'll do what you want. I'll get your master back for you," he said bitterly, his eyes full of hatred when he finally lifted them to Morgul. "You make certain my son remains alive to benefit."
Morgul had no intention of keeping any such promise to Frank but the human did not need to know that as this point. It had taken quite a bit to break that proud spirit, still so defiant after all these years. Another lifetime did not change the soul residing within Frank Miller. It was just as powerful and resonant as the day Faramir of Gondor had faced Morgul on the field of battle. Forcing Frank to submit now was a great step and one Morgul intended to exploit to its fullest measure.
"They are approaching," one of his brothers' spoke from the door.
"You will speak to them," Morgul said to Frank. "You will tell them to lower their weapons."
"My wife will never agree to it," Frank answered. "She won't trust you to honor your word."
"As long as my master is entrapped, there is always room for negotiation," the Witch King declared. "You will tell her to obey or else this negotiation ends with your child's blood soaking the ground."
Frank clenched his fists in anger, forcing himself not to be baited by Morgul's words. There was no need to give him any more pleasure than he was already experiencing. Instead, he channeled his anger into the part he needed to play to perfection if this plan known only to him, was going to work. "Fine. I'll talk to her."
He went to the mouth of the cavern and paused, flanked by Nazgul on either side of the entrance. They were waiting for him to betray them, reluctant to trust him even though they held his child's life hostage. Frank wish he could oblige them but for him to relay his plan to Miranda and the others, they had to be here and it was not much of a plan really, just a desperate gamble borne out of a father's desire to save his child. He looked at Sam once more, lying on the rock, his young body shuddering like a leaf in the wind. He thought of the child he had cradled in his arms, who had won his devotion with his first smile and Frank knew that he could not face Miranda with the news that they had lost their eldest. He simply could not.
"Miranda!" He called out, hating himself for doing this but comprehending he had no choice. "Miranda, if you're out there, lower your guns."
He heard the approaching footsteps halt instantly and could imagine the questions that must have surely been hurtling through Miranda's mind. He waited for the inevitable response, knowing that she would answer once she was certain that it was he.
"Miranda luv," he called out again to reinforce her belief. "It's me, Frank."
"Frank?" She returned after a few moments, "what's happening?"
Even through the distance, he could hear her confusion.
"Miranda," he repeated himself. "You have to trust me. You have to lower your guns to approach. There's no other way."
Another noticeable pause followed and he could almost hear the argument she must be having with the others. He saw the Nazgul staring at him, he could see the way their bodies were flinching and guessed that the Silmaril must have been having its effect on them. It was meant to be a force of purity, something that would burn away the darkness. Frank had never intended to perform such a practical test but he had no choice now.
"Frank, are you sure?" Miranda asked again.
"Luv, you have to trust me," he repeated himself. "Sam's badly hurt. If we don't do it this way, he'll suffer something worse than death."
He knew his wife well and he knew telling her about Sam would tip the balance in his favor. He hated using her powerful maternal instincts in this way but he was driven by equally powerful paternal need to save Sam. He heard the footsteps resume and peered out of the cavern entrance to see that she had put her faith in him and was walking to the cavern, the weapon in her hand lowered. Behind her, Elrohir and Eric were flanking her cautiously while to his intense relief, he saw Pip walking hand in hand with Eric. The child's eyes brightened at the sight of his father and Frank wished he could have given Pip the welcome he wanted but the moment was far too tense for that. This had to be played out to its inevitable end.
"Frank, what's going on?" Miranda asked when she was near enough, her eyes fixed upon the Nazgul beside him.
"Sam's been hurt," he said cautiously.
"Pip told us," she replied.
"Not how badly," Frank explained as she neared the entrance paused. "You want me to cooperate, you're going to have to give me some room to move." He gazed briefly at Morgul.
Morgul nodded at his brothers who promptly retreated from the doorway, knowing what was at stake. Frank let out a sigh of relief and turned back to his wife.
"They've wounded him with something that will turn Sam into one of them if we don't get him help," Frank explained.
"What!" Miranda burst out, her hands tightening around her gun once more in fury.
"A Morgul blade!" Elrohir hissed in outrage and turned an accusatory eye at Morgul. "You vile creatures would visit such pain on a child!"
"Calm down," Frank said sharply to the elf, trying to diffuse the situation. The others were just as angry as Elrohir. Frank could see storm across their faces. However, Elrohir's strong words were provoking the Nazguls' own baser instincts and it would take one rash act to turn this entire situation bloody. "He says that that the only way to help Sam is to go to Valinor, is that true?" He looked at Elrohir.
"Yes," Elrohir nodded, "my father has healed such a wound before but speed is of the essence. We would have to take Sam there immediately."
Miranda had no sooner reached Frank than she followed his gaze and was led to the sight of Sam lying on the ground, appearing as sickly as Pip had described him. All sense was driven from her as she hurried forward, caring little about the delicate balance of the temporary détente that Frank had forged with the Nazgul.
"Oh my god, Sam!" She ran to his side and immediately swept him up in her arms; unaware that her horror of her child's predicament was giving great pleasure to the wraith whom had inflicted the wound upon him. "Oh my baby," she cried out as she felt his face and recoiled at how warm his skin felt under her palm. She felt the heat and the moisture. He trembled in her arms, a shuddering action, which compound her terror even further. "Frank, he's burning up!" She looked at her husband helplessly. She rocked him in her arms, holding Sam to her breast as if he were still an infant. He did not struggle in her embrace and seem almost oblivious to his presence.
"Sammie," Miranda spoke laying him on the ground so she could look at the wound. "It's mummy, I'm here. We'll make you better."
"How sweet," Morgul said taking a step forward, relishing her fear. "I had no idea that using the whelp in this manner would be so satisfying."
"You bastard!" Miranda snarled almost lunging forward.
"MIRANDA!" Frank stopped her in her tracks, crossing the space between them in seconds. Morgul was itching for a chance to provoke Miranda, now that he knew she was powerless to act.
"Not now," he said calmly, taking her hands in his. "Sam needs us to be strong for him. There will be time for this later." He met her eyes and tried to convey what he needed in a fashion that would not arouse the suspicion of the enemy. "You need to keep a cool head. When I do what I have to, you must make certain that Sam is safe, do you understand?"
Miranda looked at him and began to understand that he had something unspoken in mind. She nodded slowly and swallowed thickly, her hand reaching for his face as the tears rolled own her cheeks. "I love you," she whispered. "Whatever happens, I always will."
Frank smiled and kissed her on the forehead before hugging her warmly. For a few seconds, they stayed in each other's embrace, drawing strength from one another before Frank turned to Elladan and Elrohir who could not discern for a moment what the human was intending. Frank looked past them at Eric who was holding Pip in his arms still. "You make a good uncle," he smiled faintly at the Australian. "Keep my Pip safe. Things are going to get very dangerous when I give them what they want."
Eric's brow knotted. His instincts sensed something hidden behind Frank's words that made him pay closer attention to what was happening around him. Miranda was cradling Sam but there was also something in her movements that reeked of anticipation. What was Frank doing?
"You do what you have to," Eric found himself saying. "We'll back you mate."
"Dad," Pip looked at Frank fearfully.
"It will be alright Pip," Frank answered with an effort to be reassuring. "Elrohir, give me the Silmaril."
"You can't!" Jason protested.
"Silence!" One of the Nazgul bellowed, aiming a gun squarely at the younger man. Jason reacted in kind, raising his gun to shoot back.
"Don't!" Frank ordered fiercely and stood between both of them before bullets could be exchanged.
"Control your companions," Morgul warned. "We have made a bargain that includes the safety of your family. That does not extend to these others." The Nazgul glared at Jason. "I have not forgotten how this one aided in my death. Your wife lives because it serves our bargain to allow her to survive. That protection does not include him."
"Give me your best shot you fucking ghoul!" Jason retorted.
"Bloody well shut up!" Frank warned angrily. There was enough force in his voice to silence the young Kiwi instantly.
"Frank," Elladan spoke, "you cannot trust him. The instant he has the Silmaril in his possession, he will kill us all."
"He cannot barter for his master without me," Frank said meeting the elf's gaze, wishing the man knew him enough to understand that he had ulterior motives. "Please give me the artifact."
"You cannot wield it," Elladan insisted, unable to understand what was in this human's mind. Frank was no fool, Elladan was certain. He could not have led them this far without being such but his actions now spoke of folly.
"I don't intend it to get that close," Frank assured him. "However, this won't end until they get what they want so I intend to see that is exactly what they get."
His words were heavy with meaning but for the life of him, Elladan could not see what it was. Frank took a deep breath and extended his hand. "I hope you know what it is you do," Elladan said reaching into his jacket and saw the Nazgul become excited at the realization at who was holding the artifact. If not for the fact that none of Nazgul could handle the jewel without serious harm, they would have already taken it from him. The Silmaril remained in a leather pouch even though it could do little harm to the elf.
"You doom yourself by this," Elrohir added, "you must know that."
Frank ignored him and drew a deep breath. Taking the leather pouch in his hand, he turned around and walked to Morgul. He swept his gaze over the area, saw Miranda on the ground with their son, her eyes fixed on Sam and also on something else, furtively. She knew what he was planning and he felt a surge of love for her because she knew his mind so well. For his family, there were no sacrifices too small and if he were to die now, he would live with that consequence. Morgul stood ahead of him waiting and Frank could almost see the gloating pleasure in his face, believing that he had tricked Frank into giving in when it was he that was grievously misled.
Eric had moved to the corner of the cavern, where an outcropping of rock provided something of an obstruction that provided some protection. He was watching Frank like a hawk and the archaeologist was grateful that he had not underestimated Eric's journalistic sense. The twins too were aware of something, if not what exactly. At present, their thoughts could not escape the possibility of the Nazgul gaining their ends with the possession of the Silmaril. Jason was in the same position but Frank had every confidence that he would react when the opening was given.
"I have your word that my family will be safe?" Frank said approaching Morgul with the artifact.
"We have an agreement," the Nazgul said in its icy voice.
Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wrapping his palm in the soft fabric as he paused in front of the Nazgul. He could see the others in the room flinching, even if Morgul was doing his best to hide it. What Frank held in his hand had more power than anyone could conceive. He remembered absurdly of what Indiana Jones felt when confronted with the choice of destroying the ark he had so desperately sought and could not because of its historical value. Frank unfastened the leather cord that held the pouch close and let the jewel fall into his fabric wrapped around his palm, thinking that here he was faced with all the answers he had ever had regarding man and how he had come to be. This jewel had existed before that primordial awakening.
This was his ark. This was his history.
He saw it as something beautiful and ageless, a monument to its creator's artistry, a work of art that made the Sistine Chapel and the Mona Lisa pale in comparison. All his life, he had been dedicating to find the truth. When he looked into the sparkling facets of the jewel, the fruit of the great trees, he knew that this was the truth, that man was not the master of this world but merely the newest addition to rich, textured tapestry of life. He saw all this in a fraction of a second and knew that this as much as his family needed to be protected.
The gun that he had taken from Miranda in their brief embrace was produced before he even released the thought from his mind. Aiming it at Morgul at point blank range, he emptied the entire magazine into the creature's head without giving any warning. Morgul's head snapped back and forth like a ball bouncing in a corner. The Nazgul had no time to react as he staggered and reeled. Frank leapt into action, enclosing his fist around the jewel for which this creature had been so willing to harm his children.
The instant Frank had acted, Miranda went for her gun. She rolled across the ground, grabbing Sam in one hand to shield him with her body while she opened fire with the other. Bullet's exploded out of the barrel at the Nazgul who was about to shoot Frank down. She had little time to waste once depressing the trigger because she had to get Sam away from the shooting. The burst of gunfire did little to stir her oldest and as she rolled onto her knees, she saw something moving in the corner of her eye. Carrying Sam slowed her down considerably as she spun around to face the threat but it was one that was not realized as an arrow struck the Nazgul about to shoot her in the back.
"TAKE COVER!" Miranda shouted at anyone capable of hearing because she saw the arrows that Elladan had released was not one that would tolerate others in its presence.
The arrow struck the Nazgul dead center and Miranda saw its surprise and its lack of fear. Why should it be afraid? It thought itself to be invincible. Unkillable yes, but invincible? Far from it she thought and saw the fraction of a second it took for the Nazgul to realize how much. The explosion created a ball of fire in mid air and sent waves of heat flowing through the room. Jason moved next to Eric who was holding Pip close to him and ensuring her son came to no harm. Miranda let out a sigh of relief at seeing Pip in good hands. Even as she held Sam to her, she could feel the heat he was generating on his own. His body could not endure this much longer. If they did not get him help soon, he was going to die.
Miranda looked around for a place to put him where he could be safe until the fighting was done. She saw the cell that had been his prison and knew that it was sturdy enough to offer him some protection. Crouching low, Miranda held Sam tight as she navigated the path through bullets and arrows. She looked over her shoulder and saw Eric and Jason keeping the Nazgul at bay with a deadly hail of bullets while Elladan and Elrohir were using what explosives were at their disposal to ensure that Nazgul were delivered a more lasting defeat. She felt a bullet from their guns graze her shoulder, nicking the flesh slightly and utter a soft cry of pain as she reached the stone cage.
"Mummy," Sam whispered when Miranda set him down on the ground again, his eyes fluttering open to cast a glass look upon her, "Mum, I'm so tired. I can't keep running," he muttered.
"Oh darling," she said kissing his cheek, holding his hand tight even though time did not permit it. "I'll make you better," she answered, fresh tears escaping her eyes. "I promise you won't have to keep running for much longer."
She had to leave him then, even though doing so left a murderous streak in her and when Miranda turned to face the enemy, she was more than prepared to decimate them from the face of the earth. The cavern was shuddering, the explosions caused by the twins were creating fissures in the ceiling and Miranda knew it wouldn't be long before the entire roof caved in over their heads. She saw Jason making his way towards the entrance of the cave, protecting Eric as they tried to make for the tunnel outside with Pip.
Miranda turned to Frank, having lost sight of her husband in all this chaos. She saw him standing over Morgul with an expression of black hatred she had never before seen. For a moment, she had no idea who he was, this man who was so full of rage it almost frightened her. She saw a Nazgul preparing to shoot him and raised her gun promptly and dispatched him before the creature could squeeze a round. An arrow struck the Nazgul in the neck as she bolted towards Frank who was about to do something she had never seen him to do.
Kill.
***********
He was not his brother.
He did not know how to kill. Taking a life was abhorrent to him. He had never understood how anyone could do it. He could never understand the power that one creature felt over another when he inflicted death. It had been shocking to discover how much skill Miranda had in this craft and though he accepted it, he was not comfortable with the idea that she had killed before. Even when Hans' life had been taken, even when he saw the anguish Eric suffered when the woman Dominique was lost, he tried to think of a way out of their situation, something that did not require him to be at the place where he was now.
Then he saw Sam and suddenly everything changed.
He stood over the Nazgul called Morgul; temporarily stunned by the gun he had fired. Ringwraith or not, the creature had a physical form even in a phantom state that no one could see. Bullets may have been incapable of killing it but it was not above hurting the creature now that its master's absence had robbed it of all its former invulnerability. The jewel glistened in his palm and yet he could feel the growing heat against the fabric of the handkerchief. It would not be long before he had to relinquish his hold of it.
"You fool," the Nazgul glared at him through the ruined mask that showed nothing of its face, just two crimson points of light that were his eyes. "You think these paltry pieces of lead will kill me? Do you think anything has changed? Your son is going to die and when he does, he will be ours. You have won nothing!"
Frank did not answer and brought his foot down on the creature's face. He did not know if there were bones to break but the satisfying sound of something crunching beneath his boot gave him intense pleasure. He lowered himself onto his knees, oblivious to the gunfire and carnage-taking place around him. The Nazgul was still reeling from the attack but Frank knew he had little time. This creature would restore itself soon enough and then it would turn the tables on him. Tearing the remnants of the white mask from Morgul's face, his palm recoiled as it felt cold flesh like that of a corpse in a morgue. It did not feel like flesh but Frank knew that in its own way it was.
He felt the bridge of a nose; shriveled skin and lips, thin like angry slashes. Fighting the revulsion at touching it, he felt the Nazgul's hands wrapping around his own and reacted quickly pressing the Silmaril against the offending limbs. Morgul screamed loudly, a banshee's wail that seemed to rise over the sound of chaos. Morgul's scream allowed his fingers to find what he had been seeking. His finger's slipped past teeth, pushing down a throat that was dry and devoid of moisture. This was a dead thing incapable of such processes. The light of the Silmaril was growing brighter, feeding of the dark energies until its light was beginning to press against the walls of the cavern.
"What are you doing!" Morgul managed to gasp as he felt his mouth being pried open.
"Showing you what Denethor's weakling son is capable of," Frank hissed menacingly before shoving the Silmaril down the Nazgul's throat.
He had no sooner released the jewel into the Nazgul's body when Morgul's body spasm in agony, forgetting all about the human hovering over him as his hands flew to his throat. A gurgled scream escaped the Nazgul as he tried to eject the burning jewel from his mouth. However, Frank was not about to let Morgul escape his vengeance so easily. Frank grabbed the Nazgul's chin and held his mouth closed, forcing such a scream of unadulterated pain that the other wraiths froze and stared in horror at what was being done to their leader.
Morgul struggled with superhuman strength but Frank had been pushed to such unbelievable rage that his own strength was holding his own as the Silmaril began to burn. Light began to seep past the crimson points of the Nazgul's eyes. Energy gave Morgul visibility that had been denied him for more ages than Frank could possibly imagine. The faint outline of a man appeared, bony and skeletal, given shape by the increasing outpouring of power. Light escaped the fissures of his body, emanating from his eyes, from the orifices of his ears and finally through his mouth. It was so intense that Frank had to look away after while because its glare was more than his own eyes could stand.
Frank released the Nazgul and scrambled away as he saw the light beginning to burn through what passed for Morgul's flesh. He watched in unbridled relish as he saw the Silmaril burning away the evil, disintegrating the creation of shadow and malice. Perhaps Morgul was truly incapable of dying but the Silmaril would ensure he would remember this journey to the shadow world. The wraith was screaming like a man set alight. Indeed he was Frank supposed as he watched dispassionately the pain the enemy was enduring. The fruit of the great trees had turned the Nazgul into a being of light. It was probably the only time a Nazgul could ever be viewed as a thing of beauty. A shape of blinding white light, writhing and screaming as phantom flesh was incinerated by the power of purity, strong and brilliant.
Morgul's screams became guttural shrieks of torment as finally the light breached its confines and suddenly exploded through the room in a powerful wave, not unlike the one that they had experienced in its awakening. Everyone turned away from the epicenter, human, elf and Nazgul alike. For a moment, they were all trapped in the same emotion of awe and wonder. However, it was brief and when the light contracted again to more tolerable levels, Frank turned back to the place where Morgul had been. All that was left of the Nazgul, the Witch King of Angmar, was the unsullied masterpiece of Feanor's genius, resting comfortably against the empty fabric of empty clothes.
Frank picked up the Silmaril and stood up to turn his gaze on the shocked Nazgul who was understandably shaken by what they had just seen.
"You can be killed," he said glaring at them. "If you don't let us pass, you will die like he did."
The Nazgul looked at each other, trying to decide whether or not they would gamble their fates on such a formidable weapon. No one spoke as the battle drew to a stalemate.
"We will let you pass," one of them spoke, "but you will not escape this place alive. We may not be willing to risk ourselves but there are many beyond these walls that have been alerted to your presence. They are coming and you cannot stop them all. Like our brother has spoken before, you have won nothing."
"Come on," Frank said ignoring their posturing as he glanced briefly at the others. "We don't have much time."
He looked over his shoulder and saw Miranda approaching Sam. Elladan and Elrohir had the deadly arrows with their explosive qualities at the wraiths. Now that they had something to fear, they were no longer so bold. Frank placed the Silmaril in its pouch and slipped it into his pocket because its work was far from done. The Nazgul were right, they still had to leave this place alive. He went to Miranda who had picked up Sam from the ground.
"I'll take him," Frank said as he took his son in his arms. "You need to fight what's coming up next."
Miranda nodded, staring at him with a mixture of awe and anxiety. She had loved him since the moment she laid eyes upon him but until now, never knew how much strength existed beneath the veneer of the civilized scholar. At this point in time, it exuded from him like raw power. It appeared that they had both been wearing masks as concealing as those worn by the Nazgul.
"Frank, Miranda!" Eric called out from the mouth of the cavern. "Let's go!"
The moment dissipated and they hurried out first, leaving the Nazgul to glower in impotent fury. Their numbers had been reduced, with four attempting to pull themselves together in the shadow world, having been sent them by the explosive forces of the arrows and grenade launchers. The other's fate was not so certain. Was he truly dead as the human claimed? There was finality to what had happened to Morgul that caused them to hold back until they were certain of his fate. Despite their devotion to their master, the Nazgul were bred with an innate need for survival. They knew that whilst their master lived, so would they. Prophecy had played a part in the Witch King's death all those years ago in Pelennor. This was the first time that they faced the possibility that they could be destroyed forever, if that was indeed what had happened to their leader. Until they knew for certain, they would allow their underlings to act for them. It was a long way to the surface and the Uruks and the other denizens of Moria would soon be on the hunt.
It was only a matter of time.
************
The Nazgul were right, they were far from safe.
Miranda had taken the lead once again as they made their way to the lift, certain that the Nazgul's threat was far from idle. The battle in the cavern had ensured that every Uruk Hai in the place knew what was happening and were no doubt closing in on them. They had to make it to the lift before those numbers overwhelmed them. Now that they had retrieved Sam and Pip, it was imperative that they escape. They had to find help for Sam before it was too late. Loading up the grenade launcher attached to the G36Ks, Miranda had every intention of blasting anything that got in their way to kingdom come.
Behind her, Frank was conscious of how warm Sam was against him. The moisture from his sweat drenched body was saturating Frank's own clothes, making the latter even more fearful that Morgul had lied to him, that the time before the poison took Sam completely was even shorter than he had been led to believe. He tried not to think of what he had done back there in the cavern, that he was capable of such brutality even if it was justifiable and provoked. Knowing that he was capable of such darkness made him uncomfortable and Frank was certain that he would be thinking about this day for a long time to come.
Behind him Jason was ensuring that he stayed close to both Eric and Frank who were carrying children as they hurried up the hallway. So far they had seen no one but that was going to change. The strained expression on the faces of the elves told him that the enemy was coming. He had learnt not to understand this unique sight of theirs since this had all began. A part of Jason still had difficulty coming to grips with how much his life had changed in the last week. Not only was he called on to utilize the skills he had not had to use since his time in the service but he was coming to understand that his life would never again be the same.
The child called Pip took very much after his father. He could see it in the shape of the face and the in the eyes especially. The boy had not said very much since the cavern but was watching everything closely with wide eyes. His fear was palpable, quite understandably. He had clung to Eric tightly, drawing strength from the adult he had met only a short time ago. Eric knew that he would easily die before allowing any harm to come to Miranda's child. This last week had been such a sobering experience. Before this, the only person who meant anything to him was Jason. He had family of course but true friends were a rare commodity with him. Now he had a sister and though that connection was not one of blood in this life, it felt no less powerful.
She was his sister in every way that mattered and Eric could not believe how good that felt.
Elladan could sense their approach. They were closing in on the company. The son of Elrond knew that if they were to make it to the place where they had first entered upon descending into Moria, they would be fortunate indeed. However, judging by the wound on Sam, it did not appear that luck was at all with them. Elladan did not wish to say how terrible the wound inflicted on the child was in actuality and that only their father had the skill to cure it completely. Neither Elrohir nor himself had been terribly interested in the healing arts despite Elrond's best efforts to teach him. Eventually, Elrond had simply given up in exasperation and chosen to bestow his considerable knowledge on Estel and more recently on Estel's reincarnation, Aaron Stone.
However, he knew he enough to see that a wound caused by a Morgul blade would consume the child long before they ever reached Valinor and their father. If he knew the herb lore of this world better, there was a chance he would be capable of stemming the flow of the poison but not enough for the child to last a sea voyage to the Undying Lands.
"Can you sense them?" Elrohir broke his concentration.
"Yes," Elladan nodded. "There are many. If we were better armed and in a less vulnerable position I might be incline to enjoy this."
"It would have been quite enjoyable," Elrohir grinned as he ran alongside his brother. "It has been long since we've been able to hunt such sport."
"I think we are about to gain more sport than we bargained," Elladan replied as the first sounds of movement became audible to their elven senses. So far they had not encountered anyone in these passages but he suspected that that would change once the paths they traveled widened. The narrow confinement made it difficult for the enemy to attack and with the Silmaril in their possession; it was best to wait until their field of vision widened. He could hear them moving beyond the tunnels they were crossing and judging by the number, there were many of them.
Suddenly, his sense of danger started screaming at him and Elladan looked over his shoulder long enough to see something at the far end of the tunnel. Was it Nazgul? Had they overcome their shock and decided that the Silmaril was worth the risk of Frank's threat? He had barely a fraction of a second before he saw the silhouette of a weapon being raised by its Uruk Hai owner.
"GET DOWN!" He shouted in warning.
The explosion of bullets sailed overhead as they dropped to the ground. Jason immediately rolled onto his belly and released a deadly hail of his own. The projectiles surged forward, creating enough of a barrage to ensure that for a few seconds at least; the enemy would be forced to run. Those few seconds were all they had to clear this tunnel.
"Go!" He shouted. "I'll cover you both!"
Elladan nodded just as Elrohir's hand wrapped around his shoulder and helped to his feet. Jason waved them by as he loaded his weapon again to continue shooting. Eric and Frank had already hurried further up the tunnel, carrying their precious cargo with them. Elladan took a few steps ahead, putting a few paces between himself and Jason before he paused and looked at Elrohir.
"You go on," he told his brother. "I have one more of these explosive arrows left. I shall put it to good use to allow Jason to join us."
Elrohir was clearly unhappy with leaving him, even if it was for a short time. However, he could not fault Elladan reasoning and as much as he detested admitting it, Elladan was better with a bow than he.
"Do not miss."
"Do I ever?" Elladan joked.
Elrohir smiled faintly but tarried no longer and set off to catch up with the others.
Gunfire whizzing up and down the passage forced Elladan against the wall. The elf saw Jason slowly retreating but knew that he could not keep up this barrage much longer. The weapon he carried needed replenishing and when it was exhausted, the enemy would cut him to ribbons. Elladan did not give the human a warning; confident enough of his marksmanship to know that one was not needed. He armed his bow with the last of the explosives carried on the tip of an arrow, thinking how he would have liked these back in the day. It would have certainly made orc hunting a great deal more entertaining.
Releasing the bow, the arrow surged forward with a loud whoosh that was all but drowned out by the deafening roar of gunfire. No sooner than the arrow was released, he shouted at Jason a split second before it struck its target.
"Jason! You must come!"
Jason did not have time to respond but the explosion that sent a fireball surging through the passage was more than incentive enough to get him moving. The screams of the enemy were silenced by the blast that made Elladan flinch and long inwardly for the serenity of Valinor.
"Thanks!" Jason replied as the younger man ran towards him.
"Elves do not like to owe debts," Elladan retorted before they both hurried to join the others.
*********
After what seemed to be an eternity of dodging bullets, escaping the clutches of Uruk Hai who seemed to appear out of the shadows as if they had bled out of the walls, the company finally reached the hall of Dwarrodelf. The narrow passage to the lift lay across the floor scattered with debris and fragments of rock from their earlier firefight here. Miranda had checked her gun and knew that their ammunition was becoming dangerously low. All she had left were the grenade shells for the G36Ks and those were no good for close quarter's combat. If it were not for the fact that Miranda was certain they had killed a good number of Uruks already, she would have been concerned.
"I'm almost out!" Jason whispered as Miranda stepped into the hall from the entry to the catacombs that ran through Moria like the honeycombs of a beehive.
"Here take mine," Eric said, surrendering what magazines he had left. "You're a better shot anyway."
Jason took them without hesitation and noted the silence in hall that had been filled with Uruk Hai earlier. "I guess they must have decided to get out while the going was good," he remarked.
"I don't think so," Frank replied staring at the ceiling and the walls of the halls. The darkness was making it difficult to see clearly but something was happening, all around them. He could hear it, soft sounds that reminded him of insects packed closely together, their tiny legs clawing over each other in some confined space.
"Its them daddy," Pip exclaimed from Eric's arms.
"Them?" Miranda looked over her shoulder because she too could hear that eerie sound, "what's them."
"Goblins," Elrohir said grimly before releasing a sigh of impending doom. He began arming his bow once more, taking a mental note of how many arrows there were in his quiver. Not enough he thought grimly but kept that observation to himself since it would avail them nothing. It would not change the outcome of the battle.
"What?" Eric stared at him incredulously. "Did you say goblins?"
"Is that any harder to believe than anything else we've seen?" Jason gave him look.
"Can we make a run for it?" Frank asked as he saw that swarm crawling down the walls and knew that there were not just dozens as there had been Uruk Hai. These numbered in the hundreds, at least.
"We're bloody well going to try!" Miranda declared. "Everybody make for the lift. Anything gets in your way shoot it!"
Her blunt words inspired them to break into a run as they hurried across the great hall unaware that the same flight had taken place almost a hundred thousand years ago by some of their past incarnations. However, even as they ran, the sound of movement had evolved from a distant rumble to a dull roar rushing at them like a great wind. The true magnitude of their situation began to dawn on them as they saw the enemy closing in on them from all corners. Unlike the Uruk Hai, these creatures were not powerful or possessing of any warrior spirit. These were scavengers, accustomed to eating the rotten things of the world, carcasses, flyblown middens and when the need arose, each other.
"Jesus Christ," Eric whispered as the swarm began to surround them despite their efforts. It was like trying to hold back the tide.
Frank saw the goblins surrounding them in a circle of steel. They carried weapons of old, swords and maces, arrows and pikes. Against guns they were quite inferior but their numbers ensured that there would still be more of them when bullets were exhausted. The passageway to the lift was within sight but they would never cross the bodies arrayed against them to reach it. Frank looked at Sam who was longer reacting at all to anything and felt a fresh wave of despair in realizing that after everything they had fought to accomplish, they were going to fail within sight of escape.
There had to be another way.
The darkness crowded on his thoughts and made it difficult to think. He saw Miranda preparing for a fight. She was loading grenades into her gun, her expression determined and grim, masking the defeat that must surely be making itself apparent to her now. He thought of Pip in Eric's arms, terrified and pale, dying in a place like this, entombed beneath miles of rock, never seeing the surface again. He and Sam were just children. Their lives were only beginning. They deserved better than a terrible end in the depths of the world, so far away from the sunlight.
Sunlight.
The idea came to him a like a proverbial of lightning. Breathing hard, he scarcely believed that his could be the answer. They were completely surrounded now, unable to move. Miranda, Eric and Jason had raised their guns, preparing to release a barrage if necessary. Elladan and Elrohir were taking a similar stance with their arrows. Eric had lowered Pip down because he needed both hands. The youngest member of the Miller family made his way next to his father.
"Daddy," he said softly, "I'm scared."
"I know," Frank looked down at his son and smiled, "but we're not finished yet."
He had good reason to be frightened as Frank looked up and saw that they were surrounded by goblins, their teeth snarling, held back only by the alien weapons they did not recognize. He saw serrated teeth, eyes that looked decidedly reptilian even if they were attached to roughly humanoid forms. As soon as their confusion evaporated as to whether or not their prey was a threat, they would and none of the humans or elves would survive that united assault.
Unless what he intended to do worked.
"Elrohir!" He called out.
The elf looked over his shoulder just in time to see something thrown at him. He caught it easily with one hand and realized it was the Silmaril in its leather pouch.
"Why?" Elrohir looked at him in confusion.
"Only an immortal can wield it remember?" Frank declared, reminding the elf what he had told them about the jewel.
"Yes, but..." Elrohir started to say when understanding flooded his consciousness. Dropping his bow immediately, he removed the Silmaril from its pouch and enclosed his fist around the smooth facets of the ancient jewel. He felt its warmth within his palm, filling him with its power. For an instant, it felt like he was home in Valinor for the jewel infused with the feeling of that place. Elrohir closed his eyes as the sensation washed over him and for a second, he could almost understand why so much blood had been shed for the possession of this jewel. It had its own life, hypnotic and awesome.
When he opened his eyes, he saw the light peeking through the cracks of his hand. The Silmaril had been borne of the great trees, Laurelin and Telperion; their light locked forever in the facets fashioned by Feanor. It was said that in their own way they lived. What should have been a thing of beauty had become the firebrand of great despair for those who could not see the miracle of it but sought to possess it like a master would possess a beast of burden. The great trees had brought light to a world encased by Morgoth's darkness and in this place, this forgotten realm of the Durin's folk, now claimed by the creatures he had left behind; it would bring forth that power again.
Elrohir opened his hand and the light of the Silmaril burst forth like a great wave, it swept through the room with such powerful brilliance that he was forced to look away from its center. It lit every corner of the great hall in a way it had never been. Those at the center of this white-hot emanation were forced to shield their eyes, however they were accustomed to the sunlight and fared better than the enemy surrounding them. Until now they had kept the Silmaril concealed, forgetting until Frank had used it against Morgul what power was held within its glittering heart.
It was time to unleash the fruit of the great trees.
A screech unlike anything they had heard before filled the enormous room. The circle of bodies around them began to recede as the goblins were faced with the brilliance of the Silmaril feeding off the darkness that was so much of their way of life in Moria. Corners began to fill with light, shapes hidden in silhouette began to gain definition and as the light absorbed the dark around it, the sphere around them grew wider and wider. The goblins were shrinking back, unable to bear the outpouring of radiating luminescence.
"Come on!" Miranda shouted at her companions now that the way was clear. The goblins were scrambling up the walls, running to the fissures in the rock to hide away from the Silmaril's powerful glow. She saw a few Uruk Hai remaining to fight and decided to use what bullets she had to clear their way. The burst of bullets prompted the others into moving. Eric picked up Pip and followed Frank who was already running after his wife.
Jason and Elladan flanked Elrohir who held the Silmaril and though they kept their gazes averted so that their eyes were not overwhelmed by its power, it was still difficult to see very clearly. Somehow Elladan prompted him into moving. The aura from the Silmaril was so brilliant now it did not matter if he moved. Every corner of the hall was still bathed in its radiance. The goblins had retreated, their eyes unable to cope with the glaring light and their dark, evil natures ensured they would shrink away from something of such purity.
Gunfire broke out in the midst of this and Elrohir blinked to focus his eyes and saw Jason was shooting at the Uruks who were as not deterred by the Silmaril or the light around them. Elladan had gone into action as well, pausing long enough to release a few arrows in quick succession to reduce their numbers before resuming their dash for the lift. The Uruks were momentarily repelled as they entered the long corridor that would lead them to the final leg of their journey to surface. He was the last one in, avoiding gunfire and bullets that impacted against the wall and forced him to leap out of its way. Fragment of broken rock rained across his back before he was sheathed in the protection of the narrow walls.
"Everybody here?" Miranda demanded as she stopped to ensure that the rest of her companions had made it through as safely. She waited as she saw Frank and Eric pass holding both Sam and Pip in their arms. Elladan and Jason swept past her and finally Elrohir. They all seemed well, quite remarkable considering what they had just endured.
"Get to the lift," she told him as she loaded another grenade into her gun. The glow of the Silmaril had lessened now that that they had moved to a more confined space.
"What of you?" Elrohir said not about to go anywhere until he knew what she intended.
"I'm right behind you," she assured him. "I'm just going to make sure no one follows us in here."
He saw her raising a gun and nodded in understanding, confident that she would be capable of handling herself. She had proven as much thus far.
"We shall not leave without you," he declared before hurrying away.
Miranda did respond and turned to the end of the corridor emptying into the hall. She could hear the Uruks shouting orders at each other and certain that there were more on the way to prevent their escape to the surface. Perhaps the Nazgul had overcome their fear of the Silmaril. In any case, she was not going to give them the opportunity to hinder their escape. Aiming high, she pulled the trigger and flinched at the explosive sound of the grenade launching. She did not wait to see her handiwork, hurrying away from the blast as it rocked the corridor with an earth shuddering rumble. Fire and smoke chased her up the passage towards the lift. She was almost to the lips when she noted the noise of crumbling rock had finally ceased. Miranda looked over her shoulder and saw that the passage was sealed. No one else would be coming through for awhile.
"Miranda!" Frank was shouting to her to hurry.
The others were already inside the lift car, waiting. Miranda hastened her speed, fighting the urge to discard the gun because it weighted her down. However, she knew that they might encounter more of the enemy on the surface and prudently kept the weapon at her side for the moment. Within seconds of hearing her name uttered from her husband's lips, she was at his side. Jason slammed his palm on the button once she was through and began the lift on its journey to the surface.
"I don't believe it," Eric said exhaling loudly as the doors slid to a close and the lift car jerked upwards, "we're still alive."
"Thanks to you," Elrohir said to Frank. "I must confess it would never had entered my thoughts to use the Silmaril in such a way. I kept thinking that it was the last remnants of Telperion and Laurelin still left on this earth and should be protected. I forgot Feanor's creation needs no one's protection."
"How's Sam?" Miranda asked, already examining her son in Frank's grip.
"He's very sick," Frank shook his head. "We have to get him help fast."
"Mum," Pip tugged at his mother's sleeve now that there was chance to do so, "is Sam going to be okay?"
"He'll be fine," she replied but her eyes showed she was not so certain.
"Only my father can help him," Elladan declared, reminding them of the reality of their situation."
Frank met his gaze and answered purposefully, "then perhaps we should go see him."
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