When the last echoes of his laughter died away, he looked at me with a completely serious expression. In the rapidly dimming light it looked ghoulish, like some twisted version of a human face that came from freakish tales told at night.
'The Elves? Nay. Have you not been listening to me, dear? I believe they cannot shelter you with their pretty woods and strange minds. We are here at the dwelling of a very powerful being, a being many consider a god.'
My eyes widened, but I looked at the hill with doubt. It seems strange to me that a 'god' offering protection should reside there, of all places. However, I allowed myself to be led up the hill, for I did not wish to re-enter Mirkwood.
'Now,' he said as we climbed up, 'you must make yourself presentable in the Lord's court. I have travelled far to bring you, and you must appear to have been worth the trip.' His serious manner remained, but I sensed a trace of tension in his voice. Perhaps he did not like this place any more than I did. Still, I trusted his words, and believed that we would soon be inside somewhere safe. I inspected my appearance in dismay. The journey had been extremely tough on my clothes, and they were stained with mud, amongst other disgusting things. I imagined my black hair looked as if it had never seen a comb or a tub of water. Overall, I could see no way by which I could make myself 'presentable'.
However, that problem was resolved instantly when we stepped through the huge metal gates, just not the way I would have liked it.
I cannot think of an appropriate word for what greeted my eyes, so I am using this simple statement:
The place was filthy.
There was a huge courtyard surrounded by tall stone walls, where the ground was bare grey dirt. The dark shadows beneath the walls were filled with somewhat Mannish shapes and those eyes, the eyes peered at us, but especially, me, with open hostility. We had noticed a strong odour when still outside, but inside the walls it seemed unbearable, and seemed to be purposely ramming itself into my nose. I feared it was noxious, but then noticed with faint horror the ground was awash with foul liquids I thought to be animal refuse, though the thought of animals living in such a place was horrendous.
Most of all, the screeching noise was louder than ever before. It did sound like torment, though I should think not of birds.
There are Men being tortured in there, I thought, and shuddered. I knew little of torture then, but naught else, or so it seemed, would cause such hideous screams. There are Men being tortured, and I am going to join them.
I tried to back out, but we had already crossed the courtyard and the gates were closed behind us. There was only one way to go – through the shadowy doors before us. The doors opened silently, and we could not see the guards who opened them.
The volume of the cacophony within was so immense that it almost took my feet out from under me. It blasted past us into the yard, as if desperate to escape from the castle. I would have gladly followed it, had not something commanded me, no, willed me, to go inside. I knew he felt it too, for beads of sweat were forming on his brow. Finally, I took an irrevocable step into the castle and saw, by dim torchlight, another doorway at the end of a long hall.
I kept my eyes on that door, not daring to look anywhere else. There were horrible things outside of the light cast by the torches, and they were making noise that blended with the screaming in a terrible concoction. We reached the door, and it opened at his touch.
In this way we passed through two more halls. Each was quieter than the last, but somehow more sinister. There was a feeling in the air, nay, in the material of the world itself, that all good would be oppressed, that all beings will bend towards what lay beyond the next door, and the next. With every step I took, the feeling grew stronger, until I was certain I should never come out alive, or recognizable as myself.
At long last, we stood before a pair of plain black doors. They were tall, but otherwise unremarkable in appearance. However, we both knew they were more important than they seemed.
My companion turned to me and said: 'I am leaving you here. I cannot go beyond that door.'
Alas, I knew he could. He simply did not want to face whatever was to come.
'You cannot leave me here,' I spoke urgently and fearfully, 'not when we have come all this way together.'
'But I must. I hope we shall meet again, dear.' He kissed the top of my head and left. I knew not where he went, for he seemed to simply melt into the shadows.
Before me, the doors swung open outwards. Gathering up what courage I had left, I shut my eyes tightly and stepped through.
After a few blind steps through the door, I opened my eyes again and found myself in very large stone room. I looked up to see a very high ceiling, so high that its limit was barely distinguishable. Thick stone columns, very plain in appearance, supported it. Beneath my feet the floor was also of grey stone, and to my amazement it was only slightly dusty, and not grimy like the ones in the previous halls. The place looked immaculate; no sound of liquids tricking, no spears lying around, no mysterious objects rolling across the floor. There were, I sensed, beings standing just beyond the columns, but all seemed to be leaving the chamber. It did not seem frightening.
However, it sure felt that way.
The only way to describe the feeling is as if the air itself has been turned into despair, or as if I stood in the shadow of something large and threatening. The feeling was stronger than ever before. I finally looked to the end of the hall, and felt my organs clench.
There, sitting on an obsidian throne, was-
Actually, I was and am not sure what it was. However, my mind screamed in silent horror at the first sight of it. My feet, on the other hand, continued to walk towards it. The handle of the knife almost cracked in my iron grip. I tried to look away from it, but could not. This was what I saw:
A huge figure, decked in black armour, sat in the throne in a reclining position. It had on black gauntlets that were partly silver around the fingers. A crimson cape it had also, and its shoulder-guards were shaped like skulls. Against one side of the throne leant a weapon, which I took to be a short sword or a mace. On its head, or where its head should have been, was a thin crown. Between that and its shoulders, there was nothing, or rather, nothing identifiable. All I could see was darkness in that space, and yet it was not empty. I squinted; perhaps I believed seeing a face would make it less disturbing, but could not make out any features. It felt as if the being did have a face, but it was in another world. It felt surreal, and very, very terrifying.
My feet stopped in front of the throne, and seemed to freeze there. I was so close, I could feel power radiating from the being. Power, and the feeling of despair that shrouded these halls.
This is it, I thought, eyeing the mace – for mace it was, I saw as I stood closer – it will kill me. It will kill me and feed me to the beasts in the shadows. I left Osgiliath for nothing, only to die in this dismal place. My father-
To my surprise and utter horror, a deep and commanding voice, the Voice, replied. It seemed to come from inside my head, and I had a strange, sickening feeling its words would spill out of my ears.
Silence! I will not unless I must.
Author's Note: your reviews will help our narrator survive! Not that many of you would want her to survive, of course. In which case, your reviews will make the author write faster, and write more about the encounter with the Dark Lord!