Chapter Ten

Night
Foothills of the Ephel Dúath

"Hey!" shouted Grady.

Heads turned as he slapped at his face and jumped to the left.

"It was a bee!" the bald man cried.

"Don't be an idiot. There are no bees out this time of year," Darien said, taking a quick look around. He saw nothing. "And even if there were any bees, they wouldn't come out in this kind of weather at night."

But Grady was adamant. "It was a bee, I swear it. Biggest damn bee I ever saw. And all black too, like midnight."

Darien and Grady turned to look at Oren who merely shrugged. He hadn't seen it either.

Darien swore softly to himself. "Giant black bees in the middle of a winter snow. What next? Don't we have enough problems without dreaming up new ones?" Then, turning back to the others, "Well whatever it was, it's gone now."

But it wasn't. This time it was Oren who jumped.

"Crimeny, Darien!" Oren exclaimed. "Grady was right! It was a bee. And big and black too just like he said."

The smug look on Grady's face was not lost on Darien and he was about to speak again, when from outside they became aware of a low droning. In the heavy silence of falling snow it seemed to tickle the very edge of human hearing, as much vibration as sound. The men grew still and wide-eyed as they listened.

Darien strode to the rear of the cavern, his men parting around him, and stared down at the seated woman and orc. "Do either of you know anything about this? Speak up; my patience has worn perilously thin."

Baffled, Sev shook her head. She knew nothing and said as much, but Nik merely stared straight ahead.

"What about you, uruk? Do you know anything?"

Nothing. But Darien recalled the smug grin of the orc earlier. He did know something, and if that something gave him pleasure, then they had better hear of it and quickly. Darien had been helpless to protect his people once before when death had descended from the darkness. It would not happen again. His jaw tightened. No. Never again.

The droning grew louder and began to pulse, vibrating in listening ears and tingling the bones of teeth and jaws. Men clutched their weapons and peered fearfully out into the night, dreading what evil the fey grayish light of snowfall might conceal.

Stifling his own crawling dread, Darien drew a knife and knelt alongside the woman. He was not sure how smart the orc was, but it was worth a try, though the tactics he was reduced to using put a bad taste in his mouth.

"Since neither of you seem to be of any use, perhaps its time we rid ourselves of you entirely." He looked only at the orc as he put the knife to the woman's throat.

Sev froze, barely breathing. It was an empty threat, she knew - or hoped she knew. Without captives, the men had nothing to bargain with. But glancing at the uruk, it became apparent that Nik knew no such thing. She opened her mouth to tell him to keep silent, but she was too late.

"It is bees," Nik blurted out. "Big ones and black, just like they said. I saw 'em too."

Darien relaxed a little, but only because his threat appeared to be working. "What do you know about them?"

Nik shrugged. "They live up here. We're almost to Mordor, it's where they're from. And they're all black ain't they?"

Darien studied the uruk, sternly shoving aside his awareness that the ... noise, whatever it was, seemed to be growing to a smothering white sound. The explanation made sense. But there was more to what the creature said than it was telling them, of that Darien had no doubt, and if they were about to be stricken with sorcery, he wanted the facts his men would need to survive it.

"Cap'n..." Oren suddenly interrupted.

"Quiet!" Darien snapped. His patience frayed close to breaking, as noise and growing desperation jangled the workings of his mind.

"But…" Oren insisted, glancing urgently between the crouched man and the opening of the cave.

"I said quiet!" Darien ordered, leaping to his feet. The thrumming had by now grown so loud that he had to fairly shout to be heard. He looked over at Oren who merely stood there, pointing to the cave entrance with a horror-stricken expression.

Darien took perhaps four paces, and felt his heart clutch into a chunk of ice. The night was alive. A cloud of living blackness undulated at the top of the cave entrance, partially blocking the view of the falling snow behind it, and yet his feet drew him closer in horrified fascination. Then the leader knew they were in even deeper trouble. Fifteen feet or so above them hovered what he realized was a thickening swarm of enormous, ink-black bees. Darien's jaw dropped. A moment later, so did the bees.

Their rush of invasion was like a vast buzzing wind, so thick that firelight dimmed to candle-flames and the leaping bodies of frantic men appeared as blurred shadows. Nik cackled wildly at the cries of confusion as bees suddenly filled the cave. Sev cringed and flung her hands up reflexively, though no bees yet came near, and she willed herself to keep a clear head. She had no idea what was going on, except that if it was good for Nik, it would probably be good for her as well. Sev had heard about the bees at Russ's farm, but she hadn't seen them before. Glancing at the whirring blur that buzzed above her head and then sped back into the fray, she had to admit, they were impressive. They flew in an angrily humming fog that swirled all about her and the others, but for some reason, none of them came close enough to bother either her or Nik. The little uruk-hai in fact was now laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Oren and Grady were still dancing wildly about at the entrance of the cave, swiping at the bees that darted around them, but they were identifiable only by their hoarse shrieks.

Darien found himself sprawled on the floor utterly without dignity, but here it seemed the bees were not so thick. Daring to raise his head - and promptly ducking from a sharp smack to the side of his face - he looked around at the whirlwind of flying bugs the cave had become. He could not believe his eyes. How does one fight such a foe? This entire expedition had been nothing but one disaster after another. At this moment he would be happy enough to cut the two prisoners loose and leave this insanity behind. But with things as they presently stood that was not possible.

"Captain!" Horus called from the other side of the cave.

Darien looked up and saw through the living maelstrom that the dark-skinned man held a flaming brand in his hand. Darien smiled thinly - of course - fire. How did you get honey from a hive? First, smoke out the bees. They would soon be rid of the swarm.

"Torches!" he shouted, as he rose to his feet. Bees zinged past his face and one buzzed his ear. "Everyone grab torches!"

Thrashing and flailing their arms above their heads, the men leaped to obey. Sparks flew and the torches belched whirls of sooty smoke as the men desperately swung at the buzzing horde. Shouts and cries were nearly smothered in the deadening hum, and for a long moment it seemed they battled nothing more substantial than a living fog. But at last nature took precedence and the bee-cloud began to lift and thin from the sweeping brands of heat and burning smoke. Into the darkness and drifting snow the giant bees faded, rising unseen to await what came next.

Panting and gasping, the beleaguered men at last staggered to wary rest, torches held in nervous hands as they peered out into the night. Grasping shadows seemed to waver beyond their uncertain light, the sudden absence of the swarm seeming hollow and breathless. Within the cave Sev raised her head cautiously, untouched by any bees but not anxious to court any closer acquaintance than she already had.

At the cave mouth, Darien turned and surveyed his men, drawing and slowly releasing a long breath as he found all able bodies still standing, albeit staring about with huge eyes. For a long moment the only sound was the brittle pop of fire or the leathery ripple of brandished flame. No sound came from the foe waiting in the woods beyond, neither word nor footstep. If they waited, none knew what for, but Darien had no intentions of letting them see his men weakened by fear of the unknown.

"Steady, lads," he said quietly. "If wizardry it was, we have prevailed."

Sev was not sure if it was rightly wizardry, since there were no wizards about, but she did wonder about the beekeeper. Dirt suddenly spattered at her feet and she looked up at the rough ceiling with a frown. It would be the topper for a perfect day if the bees somehow brought the roof down on them, but she saw no bees up there.

"That's right!" said Grady, and turned a sneer towards Nik's bound form. "You hear that, you wretched uruk rat? Your Mordor bees can't save you."

The little uruk-hai looked at Grady and his face contorted in an ugly grin. Then he threw back his head and laughed, laughed in a mad, crowing peal that held no humor at all.

xxxxxx

Russ the Beorning had long ago given up trying to pick out the trail the others had left. Now he simply followed the black ribbon that unwound over his head and raced through the trees. For a man the snowy night was dim with danger and mystery, but for a bear, the darkling woods were familiar as home itself, and the ribbon of bees above as clear as a new-cut road. If anything had happened to Nik… well, things would get ugly and very fast. Tree and shrub flashed past as he followed the trail the bees had laid out for him. He was getting close now; he knew it. He could tell by the rapidly growing sound of the bee's droning. And he could begin to smell them. He could smell who ever it was that held Nik and others too. Celebsul? Yes, he was near. So were others from the Troll, but he didn't have time to sort out who was who. It might have been minutes or hours, but save for the scarcity of it, time had long since lost any meaning for the Beorning. Russ began to hear voices not far away, frantic shouts and curses and… faint laughter? Russ recognized it at once. It was Nik. He was laughing all right, but there was a bitter, vengeful tone to it. Russ gave a snarl and began his sprint.

xxxxxx

Darien's head jerked up. He had heard it clearly. Men still brandished torches to either side of him, while others stoked the fires behind them with more wood from their diminishing supply.

"Something else is coming," he told the others. He tried to sound calm, but it was just not possible.

"Something else?" young Evan asked, fear cracking his voice as he shot his elder brother Neal an anxious look. However, Darien's attention was turned outside.

Monroe, Grady and Oren positioned themselves outside in the falling snow, to the right of the entrance, while Darien, the young man Neal, Horus and Carrick took position to the left. The other men stood inside of the cave, a last line of defense - but against what? Darien glanced around for Landis, and was gratified to see his injured friend safely inside the cave, standing tense guard over the woman and the orc. Into the breathless night they peered, hearts thundering and spirits quailing. Though the snow sifting upon the ground was slowly lightening the darkness to mock-twilight, revealing dark shapes and forms, the men found no comfort in it. Now they would have welcomed the very earthly sound of voices from those who had demanded the woman's release, but of their pursuers there was no sign.

"Sweet Eru!" Oren swore as he suddenly saw what was coming. "It's the Shadow!" he cried out. "The Shadow is coming!" Holding out his sword, his arm trembled with terror.

xxxxxx

Celebsul looked up. 'Now what?' he thought to himself as new sounds caught his ear. To the men in the cave the noise may have been muted, but to his elvish ears it sounded as though an entire army was crashing through the undergrowth. He turned into the grey whirl of snowfall, seeking its source - And within seconds he saw a huge black bear burst through the curtaining flakes of ice, blundering headlong past his small company and thundering out into the snowy clearing, straight towards the cave. It was an incredible sight, the great shoulders rolling and haunches driving with each plunging stride. Though he had witnessed Russ in this form before, he had never seemed quite this massive and fearsome, eyes wild and teeth bared in a feral rage.

"We better move," Celebsul shouted, gathering his wits quickly. Strategy and negotiations, it seems, were now redundant. He drew his sword and, with his comrades following, the elf leapt out into the clearing.

xxxxxx

Darien stared into the false twilight of a snowy night and felt sweat slick his grip on his sword. A gigantic black bear followed by elves and men and orcs? This could not be happening.

Grady froze in his tracks, speechless with terror at the behemoth hurtling upon them. Nothing was that big, nothing. Well, nothing natural at any rate. To Grady's right Oren screamed and swung his sword, missing wildly but it was enough for the bear. A single blow of a massive paw sent Oren sprawling face down, his blood painting red the white canvas of snow beneath him. Grady saw the bear's rolling eyes as it blasted past him and into the center of the clearing, snow swirling behind it.

There, Russ wheeled to a halt and bellowed a great snarl of rage. 'Who are these people,' he thought'and where is Nik?'

Grady's instinct for self-preservation took over and without thinking he bolted for the safety of the cave. Russ wheeled after him with a shattering roar. Darien, Monroe, Neal, Horus and Carrick scrambled back into the cave mouth, forming a line between the bear and the interior of the den.

"Call him off!" Darien shouted frantically. "Call the bear off now or the woman dies, so help me!"

"Russ!" the silver-haired elf shouted, as he raced across the clearing towards the Beorning.

But the huge beast just roared and lumbered forward to face his foe. A creature of primordial power it seemed, sprung from ages beyond memory and awakening ancient fear in the darkest recesses of mortal hearts. Then it paused, a deep growl rumbling in the cavern of its chest, and there was terrifying intensity to its measuring stare, as if it were deliberately choosing who would die next. Which, Celebsul feared, was precisely what was happening.

"I said call it off!" Darien's voice cracked harshly to a near-scream. "If we die, the woman and uruk die too."

Behind him, in the cavern's opening the three archers crept forward and readied themselves, although none had any faith their frail arrows could more than further anger the enormous creature. Yet to their amazement, one of the elves had sprinted forward and now slid to a halt in front of the bear.

"Russ!" Celebsul cried. "Hear me for pity's sake! They will kill Nik and Sev! There are other men in the cave!"

The bear stood swaying, paws mauling the snowy ground. It took another step forward and blasted a snarl of rage so intense that Celebsul felt its hot breath on his face. Was Russ in there? Could he get through to him, or did the man disappear when the creature took his body?

The clearing fell deadly silent now. The bees, evidently having fulfilled their purpose, had gone. Whither none knew. The eyes of everyone were turned upon the bear and the elf. Snowflakes continued to drift lightly down, wrapping the night in a dim twilight that seemed somewhere between worlds.

"Russ ... please." The elf stood firm, though expecting at any moment to be battered aside or bowled over by those long, lethal claws.

But instead Russ ... changed. He stood upon his rear legs and as he did the thick fur retreated into his skin, the claws were withdrawn into great, curved fingers and in the space of a few seconds Celebsul found himself standing before a very large, very angry and very hairy naked man. Not that it seemed to make any difference to Russ. As cold and wet as it was, he took no notice of it at all. Snowflakes landed and disappeared, running in thin trails down his hairy back and chest.

His enormous breast heaved from the exertion of the run and steam rose from the bare skin as he stood and tried to make sense of the situation. He looked first at Celebsul, then at the men before the cave. Nik was in there, and Sev. Russ could smell them. That and fear. The rank sweat of fear was everywhere around him. He could almost taste it.

'Good,' he thought. 'Let them fear, they have reason to.'

Russ turned and again stormed toward the cave. The men swayed into positions of readiness but still stood there, their mouths hanging open as he approached. If Darien had suspected sorcery before, now he was certain of it. A skin-changer. He had heard tales of them, and what he had heard found its proof in Oren's bloodied form groaning in the snow before them.

"Bring them out!" Russ demanded, and the bass rumble of his human voice was as chilling as the bear's. "Bring them out and I'll let you live!"

Darien wanted to speak, but his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. He turned to look at the others when he saw the youth Neal, perhaps emboldened by Russ's change in form from that of a bear to an unarmed man, bring his sword to a ready position. The skin-changer was very large, yes, and strong by the look of his massively knotted arms and legs, but unarmed and naked and Neal saw him as no match for cold steel. Darien knew instantly that the lad was mistaken and drew breath to call out but too late. Neal dashed forward with a yell and a swing of his sword, but Russ was quicker. His hand flashed out and seized the young man by the neck, lifting him easily from the ground. Something in the watching night rumbled dully and was still, and none knew if it was the giant man or an echoing anger in the earth itself.

"Fine," Russ growled. "Then you can be the first to die."

Neal's eyes bulged and he gasped for air as Russ dangled him like a cloth puppet. Thoughtlessly Neal dropped his sword and pulled in vain at the fingers clamped around his throat like iron bands. Somewhere in the cave young Evan screamed his brother's name, but found himself seized and held by Landis' firm hand.

"Russ!" Celebsul shouted and suddenly there was power in that voice, a power and strength nearly as old as Middle Earth itself.

Russ looked upon his friend and saw him revealed for the first time. There was an authority and majesty that only could come from one of the "old folk" of Middle Earth, as Russ's father had called them, the Fair Folk, the High Elves of the West. Tall he stood, and grave. Kingly he was in the Beorning's eyes, fearless and the Light of Valinor was upon him.

"Release him," Celebsul said.

And to Russ the Elf's words were musical and full of grace and brought to his mind images of a forgotten time. A time before men or Beornings walked the shores of Middle Earth. And though Russ had spent many days alone listening to the soft wind singing under the eaves of Mirkwood and drifting off to sleep to the gentle music of the Anduin, he had never heard a sound so fair. All the rage and anger drained out of him, leaving only the wonder of what he saw and the sudden chill of the night and falling snow. He set the hapless youth down, ignoring his boneless, wheezing collapse to earth, and stepped back.

"Yes," the big man muttered, confused. "Yes of course."

Russ glanced around, but nothing had changed. There were no awed looks or shocked expressions. If anything, he saw in the others gathered there only relief.

Celebsul stepped forward and laid a hand on the shoulder of the bewildered Beorning. It was a long reach, even for an Elf.

"Mae govannen, Russbeorn", he said quietly, calling Russ by his full name. "It is good that you have come."

On the edge of the clearing men stirred, their minds grappling with the image of a bear melting itself into the biggest man they had ever seen in their lives ... who cared not at all that he stood naked in the falling snow.

"Someone want to tell me what just happened?" Bob asked.

Anardil merely shrugged. "Cel seems to have a way with animals," he said.

"That's some way," Bob said.

"You people have no idea," Warg said as she trotted past them to stand alongside Celebsul. She alone had seen the same thing as Russ, but then she had always known as much and was not surprised.

Gasping and heaving for breath, Neal finally got his legs back under him and tried to scramble toward the cave. Warg looked over at him, and her gleaming golden eyes met his squarely.

"Going somewhere?" the big animal asked.

Neal fainted.

"Humans," Warg muttered.

xxxxxx

Darien watched and heard all but failed to understand any. The edges of his sanity felt as though they were fraying. He looked anxiously around. Neal seemed to be fumbling his way back to consciousness but Oren was badly wounded. Darien was grateful that Monroe still possessed the presence of mind to kneel and check Oren, but he feared for the fallen man's survival. How could his remaining men defend themselves against this unfathomable assortment of enchanted creatures? But he still stood with his sword in his hand and his men did likewise. The orcs and the warg and the gigantic bear-man boded evil, yet the elves ... one had intervened to save young Neal. Why? And there were also rangers, the King's men. Were all enthralled?

He struggled to decide what to do, stand and fight to the death rather than risk being likewise enthralled, or hope that there were at least some good people amongst this 'enemy'. If it were his fate alone, the decision would be easier, but he glanced at Horus and saw that even in torchlight, the dark countenance of the normally unemotional man had faded to an unnatural color. With another flickering glance, Darien confirmed that all the men who stood with him were more afraid at this moment than they had been on the battlefield facing hoards of orcs. They knew how to fight against flesh and blood. They knew how to meet death. But here, they were confronted by something beyond their understanding and maybe something worse than death.

A new sound reached Darien's ears, but it failed at first to register. He watched as Neal regained his feet, then he noticed an orc gesturing wildly to the hill above them.

"Look out!" the creature cried.

Gubbitch had known this site was unstable. It had groaned and murmured before they had abandoned it. Now his black blood turned cold.

The hill was growling. Whatever stood before them, the growing rumbling in the landscape behind was suddenly worse. The warg bayed a chilling warning and men ran - some into the cave seeking shelter from whatever new horror approached, some running out with nameless terrors snapping invisible at their heels. Friend and foe retreated together, and then those outside turned as one to witness the most pitiless enemy of all.

To their horrified eyes, the trees standing on the hillside above the cave had started to move, tall silhouettes sinking, tilting in ponderous, grace as the black earth beneath their roots suddenly cracked in a jagged running scar across the snowy slope. The rumbling shuddered through earth and stone and the bones that stood upon it, rolling into a bludgeoning roar. Earth, it seemed, had decided to flow like water.

Men shouted in panic from the depth of the cavern as the lights at its entrance winked out, and still the ground moved, flowing, falling, sucking small trees into itself, until chaos at last clattered to uneasy stillness. Clouds of dirt choked the night as enemy and ally stood together in stunned silence. The cave was gone. And so were Sev and Nik.

Among the watchers, a one-armed man walked slowly forward, his steps uncertain as a sleepwalker's. The hillside before them still stood powdered white in new snow, all but for the dark, gaping wound where the mountain had slid. The cave and all within it had utterly disappeared beneath a vast black mound of rock and mud and debris. The man seemed to stumble, and then abruptly dropped to his knees. It almost would have been a relief if he - or someone - could have screamed.

xxx

TBC ...