Chapter 2
He got up, quickly crossing the room to lock the library door. Luckily he was alone in the room. Usually Elrond and he spent the afternoon working together in the library but the half-elf had decided to spend his day in his study. A fact which suited Erestor more than well.
He walked around the room, carefully closing all the curtains on the windows, making sure that there was absolutely no possibility of someone seeing him. He would not be able to go through with his plan if someone disturbed him.
Satisfied with his precautions he went to the fireplace in the northern wall of the library and sat down cross-legged on the boar skin in front of it, resting his elbows on his thighs. He had only one chance today. Concentrating on breathing slowly and evenly he released his mind, concentrating on someone who should have died long ago. Only seconds later his mind left his body and his consciousness travelled to the far away place he had seen so aften in his dreams.
He gathered his black cloak about him, shivering as a cold draught of wind travelled through the halls. He hated it. Shivering was a weakness of mortals. Grinning maniacally he continued his way into one of the many corridors of the castle, descending a winding staircase till he finally reached the dungeons, the most important place of the whole building.
He needed a good dungeon for his plans. A dungeon, from which there would be no escape. The sight of the working orcs lifted his spirits immensely. Sauron had been a complete fool in his opinion but at least the dark lord had been intelligent enough to keep Melkor's orcs on. But that was about the only thing he had done right.
And with a little bit of luck, no one would be able to stop him once he really set his plan into motion. The grin on his dark face broadened. He had long ago learned that luck usually favoured the industrious. And he had always been industrious.
He stopped, frowning as he sensed another presence in the room, and an elven presence no less. He laughed out loud, baffling the orcs with his sudden mirth. There was only one elf on Arda who would dare to project his mind to a place where he was. An elf which he had not spoken to for millenia. He concentrated on the presence, reaching out to his foolish visitor
with his mind.
"Silly
elf," a well-known voice behind him huffed, "Are you once again
lost in the crystals?"
"Gimli," Legolas grinned, "You know
full well which effect the Glittering Caves have on me. I never
thought that there would be so much beauty underground."
"Right.
After all it's only our third visit to the caves. How should you
know what they look like by now? Honestly," the dwarf rolled his
eyes, leaning onto his walking axe as he stared up at his friend,
"You elves must be weak of memory."
Legolas' laughter echoed lightly in the vast caves. "Have it your way, master dwarf." He shrugged, a fluid movement of simple elegance, "But these gems are even more beautiful than precious."
"The fact that we turned these caves into a home might have something to do with it, master elf."
"Aye, my friend, it might. If one considers the fact that a group of dwarfs has been living here the place looks still quite good."
Gimly grinned, shaking his head as Legolas returned to staring at the gems and crystals. The dwarfs had been careful not to damage the precious stones when they had built their home here. Now, ten years after Gimli had decided to lead a group of dwarfs, which were willing to settle in the Glittering Caves, the great hall of teir mine had finally been finished; a vast room with a corridor of high pillars in the middle, from where reliefs spread all over the roof, circling and flowing around the crystals with which nature had graced the caves.
"If you're done with staring at the roof," Gimli interrupted Legolas' enrapture, "Maybe you could tell me what caused you to finally visit a friend you seemed to have forgotten."
"Forgotten?" Leoglas glared at Gimli, feigning indignance, "I wrote you a letter almost every year!"
"A letter! Hah!" Gimli turned, leading the blond elf to one of the tables in one of the corners of the great hall, "A letter! A letter is nothing! We drawrfs believe in doing things in person! Letters…" he mumbled, patiently waiting for Legolas to follow him.
"If you had read my last letter you would know why I have come." Legolas sat down on one of the long benches, one leg on each side of the wooden beam, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the table next to him.
"Since I have not read your last letter you will have to tell me." Gimli sat down, too, grabbing a pint of malt beer.
"Not read my last one? Does that mean you read the other ones?"
"Even if I did," Gimli wiped the foam from his beard, "I have no reason to read your last one, since you're here now."
"Very well," the elf grinned, knowing full well that Gimli would never admit that he might have liked receiving regular letters, "I am on my way to Minas Tirith and wanted to ask you to accompany me."
"The Glittering Caves aren't exactly on the road between Mirkwood and Minas Tirith." Gimli pointed out.
"Really? My Adar always said I had a dwarven way of reading maps. It'll be ten years since Sauron's fall and Aragorn's coronation soon. Will you come with me?"
"Come with you and spend two weeks laughing at an elf trying to camp by the road? I wouldn't miss it for the world!"
He concentrated on keeping his breathing even as his mind finally reached the castle. Silently he swept down, passing orcs as he ventured into the halls. He sensed a presence in the castle which he knew only too well. A presence that drew him towards the dungeons.
Petrified Erestor watched as orcs carried heavy iron bars around, melting them into the rock with the help of fire drakes, thus creating new cells. Barad-Dûr was really being rebuild. He gasped as the black-cloaked figure whose presence had drawn him near suddenly reached out to his mind.
"Duathion…." A cruel, laughing voice echoed in his head, "I knew we would see each other again…"
Erestor groaned, pain rushing at him as the creature laughed, red eyes glittering in the dark of the dungeons. "You are dead," he whispered weakly, trying to free himself from the dark elf's mental grasp, "You are dead and you will never return…"
Pain spiralled through Erestor once more as the black-clad elf laughed out loud.
"I am quite alive Duathion," Barak whispered, "And fear not, I will find you…I promise."
"No!" Erestor pulled himself free, almost collapsing onto the floor as his mind returned to his violently shivering body. Moaning softly he shook his head. Something had gone wrong. He had wanted to have a look at what was happening but instead seemed to have cast his mind into the past once more. Everything else was absolutely impossible. He had seen Barak die. Had seen the ruins of Angband bury the dark elf beneath them.
Still trembling he climbed to his feet, looking at the clock. It was almost time to meet Glorfindel. Sighing he walked slowly to the windows, drawing the rich, velvet curtains aside. At once Anor's last red-golden rays invaded the library, basking the long rows of books in a soft glow. Still the beauty of the sunset failed to warm Erestor's heart. He was too confused. Shaking his head he tore his gaze from the view outside and started towards the door, unlocking it as quietly as possible. Hopefully no one had tried to talk to him in the last few hours. Now he only had to convince Glorfindel that everything was in perfect order.
Elvish Translations:
Adar Father
Angband Melkor's stronghold during the first age
