Chapter 9

Durog stood under the noonday sun, sweating in full armor, and festooned with weapons, waiting for the enemy to arrive.

A thousand dwarves stood with him, carefully organized in ranks and files on the field before the Front Gate of Lonely Mountain.

He thought "At least this time it wasn't in the middle of the night."

He didn't speak - the king wouldn't have liked that.

The king wanted the dwarf army to look as impressive as possible.

Durog had recently been able to afford a nice and highly ornate, but still fully functional, set of "dress armor" - very fancy and all covered in decorative gold and silver inlay, among other things - so he was in the front rank near the king.

There was so much gold and silver decoration among the dwarves present that Durog had to squint or risk getting temporarily blinded.

All their magic weapons were out too, and unsheathed, so their magic glow could be seen.

And everything else they could do, in the time they'd had, had been done to try to overawe this enemy - one as wily and treacherous as any, and, though the dwarves hated to admit it, one quite formidable indeed: potentially capable, in fact, of standing against, even defeating, any force in the world.

"Here he comes," a nearby dwarf with good eyesight whispered.

"Is there really just one?" Durog whispered back.

"Who can tell?" The dwarf answered, "Elves are sneaky - there could be another one behind every blade of grass."

It turned out there were three - 2 humans escorting one elf.

When they got close enough, it became clear to Durog why the humans were there - they were his fish-purchasing agents from LakeTown, Gert and Denn, known by the dwarves of Lonely Mountain because they came regularly to buy the fish he grew in his underground reservoirs.

The dwarves were unwilling to eat those fish, given what the fish ate.

But the humans didn't care - they even said they didn't want to know - that fish was fish.

Durog could understand why the elf would have brought the 2 humans along: elves and dwarves got along very poorly - they had since the affair of the Nauglamír with Thingol in the First Age.

If this elf wanted a chance to speak before being driven off - violently if necessary - he needed an introduction.

When the three got within shouting distance, King Thror yelled, "That's far enough! Speak your piece and be gone, treacherous elf. This is our land and your kind are not welcome here!"

Durog expected a haughty, or even arrogant reply from the elf, but was surprised.

The elf yelled back "I seek help from the dwarves of Lonely Mountain, and am willing to pay for it."

"It shall not be cheap, elf, if we are willing to help at all," the king yelled. "But approach a bit closer and tell us what it is you want."

The elf gave the 2 humans some coins, and they left, having more or less introduced him just by being there.

He approached somewhat closer, then called "I am Losse Seldo, and have heard rumors that the dwarves of Lonely Mountain are strong - indeed, I can see for myself that you are, for you are wielding more magic weapons here than I have seen in an age."

King Thror looked pleased and Losse Seldo continued. "I have heard it said that you not only can, but have, defeated dragons. I seek similar aid."

"Who has been telling elves our strengths - and probably our weaknesses as well!" King Thror demanded. "Are you spying us out for an attack?"

Losse Seldo must have been desperate, Durog thought, since he maintained his composure and answered calmly, "I heard it from about 10,000 orcs, who recently returned to MirkWood from here. Well, not all ten-thousand. We only questioned the last few, after whittling them down to a mere hundred or so by constant sniping as they traveled."

"And why didn't you do similarly when they passed MirkWood on the way here?" demanded Thror.

"Actually we did - it's policy to snipe at any orcs passing by. We don't line up for pitched battles if we can avoid it. If the elves did that a tenth as often as do the more prolific races, we'd have gone extinct long ago. So concealed elf archers shot at them from hiding, and we misdirected them into dangerous areas - especially among the giant spider infestations. That was fun - they even killed a few spiders. That helps us out. All told, we whittled their numbers down significantly before they got clear of our area of control. When they left Dol Guldur, in the south of MirkWood, they numbered thirty-thousand. They numbered about twenty percent less before they left the forest heading north."

King Thror looked pleased but unwilling to admit it.

In tones of grudging respect he said, "Very well then. Dol Guldur - that's interesting, but we'll come back to that. What are you asking us to kill?"

"We also thought the Dol Guldur connection was interesting so my scouting team and I entered that place to learn what we could. Something evil there has been corrupting MirkWood, and we thought it was high time to learn more with an eye towards doing something about it."

Thror looked impatient. "Yes, yes, get on with it. What did you learn?"

The elf looked pained "Now we know where the giant spiders infesting MirkWood are coming from."

"We ran into their mother."

"My team was highly expert at killing spiders, even very big ones. We thought we could handle her."

"In a moment of foolish confidence, I indulged in a bit of bragging, and spat in her eye."

"She killed my team. I alone made it out. And she is tracking me, obviously intending to kill me too some dark night soon."

"Who?"

The elf took a deep breath "Shelob."

"You joke." King Thror spat impatiently.

The elf deflated.

"No. I am indeed speaking of Shelob, the mother of all giant spiders."

"Shelob, who has lived since the dawn of time, and has plagued this world for ages."

"Shelob the spider who is as big as a house yet as stealthy as a cat."

"Shelob whose hide, legend tells us and my team has personal experience with, cannot be pierced."

"Shelob, whose poison none can withstand, no matter how big and tough they are."

"Shelob..."

"Fine we get the point." Thror interrupted.

"The answer is no - we are not crazy."

The elf got indignant. "Are you telling me that a kingdom of dwarves who recently defeated a size 7 dragon is so daunted that they don't even want to hear what reward is being offered?"

"You ARE spying on us!" King Thror looked ready to fight.

"No," the elf sighed. "I'm a scout, as I told you: a leader of scouts and not without skill. Despite attempts to cover it up, as well as your army walking all over it, I can see right there are the tracks of a large dragon. Judging by the stride and the depth of the claw-marks, I can see it was size 7, and it went into Lonely Mountain by the front gate, but did not come out again. You are here, she is not. How hard is it to figure out that you defeated her?"

Durog wasn't sure whether to believe the elf really could tell a dragon's gender by its tracks or not, but he was impressed anyway.

"Fine," Thror grumped, "Speak your piece then. But to hire legendary deeds demands a legendary price. You don't look able to pay it and we wouldn't trust any promises from elves anyway. So you're wasting your time."

The elf nodded, and took out a small silk pouch covered in magic symbols.

"I have here the Kal -o nólë, or Light of Truth in your language, a magic item made by an ancestor of mine. He specially prepared some water by magic, then placed it with a Silmaril for over a year, so it could absorb and alter some of the light of that Silmaril. The water still shines with that light, which compels those within it to speak truth.

I will demonstrate its effect on you so you know it works - don't worry, I will ask you only your title, which I already know is King. If I ask you anything else you have plenty of forces here and can strike me down for it.

Once demonstrated, I will use it on myself to verify all that I have said, and to discuss what pay I can offer."

King Thror backed away. "So you say, but how do I know what effect that thing really has? I'm not letting you get me under it's power. Test it on..."

he scanned the front rank and his eye fell on the least senior member there, "young Durog there." He pointed at Durog.

Durog dutifully came forward - you didn't say no to kings, and he owed this one a lot for allowing and then funding his projects. But his off-hand was tightly clutching his very lucky four-leaf clover fossil, which he luckily happened to have with him today.

The elf said, "I will need a couple more questions then to make clear what is happening." Seeing no objection, he took a glass vial out of the silk bag. The liquid in it shone with light like a small sun.

Losse Seldo the elf held the shining vial near Durog and asked "Do you feel a magic effect from this light?"

"Yes." Durog was compelled to say.

"What effect is that?"

"It makes me tell the truth."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"Then why are you turning so red?" King Thror broke in and demanded.

"I thought you may ask me to tell a secret and I didn't want to end up saying that I'm in love with young Nerula and I want to marry her."

Durog blushed even redder.

King Thror blushed too. "Sorry Durog. I'll speak to her father for you. And," the king turned to face the army, "I'll speak for you to anyone here, or anyone else for that matter. To all I say that Durog is a good lad and if you have a problem with that you can take it up with me!"

Thror waved to the elf. "Bring that thing over here and lets get it over with."

Losse Seldo complied, saying, "If I ask your title, we may get the whole list of honors, ranks, badges, medals etc. So I will just ask this: what is your most important title?"

"Father," the king said emphatically.

He and his son Thrain blushed. Dwarves did not like admitting such things, especially not in public.

"And I will volunteer that another less-important title I have is King of Erebor in Lonely Mountain."

The elf nodded. "And I will volunteer that all I have told you so far is true, and that I intend to keep whatever agreement I can make with you."

Thror nodded. "Fine. Now put that thing away, your point is made."

He turned to the army and called "you're all dismissed. Go back about your business while the elf, my counselors and I haggle. And somebody get a tent and some chairs for us to haggle in."

As the army began heading back into the mountain, Losse Seldo visibly relaxed.

After a moment, he gestured to the mountain and said "I love what you've done with the place. It used to be all bare rocks and dirt, but now it's delightfully green with a lovely splash of color from," he squinted, "berry bushes I believe. Very nice."

"Tasty too." Thror agreed.

Then both sides lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

Dwarves and elves had a lot of bad history between them.

They waited in 2 groups - the elf staying a modest distance away from the group containing the king, his guards, and his counselors, including Durog's former boss, now re-titled the Chief of Normal Engineering, with whom Durog still coordinated frequently, and Durog himself, since he had recently been titled Chief of Defensive Architecture, although many informally called him the Chief of Abnormal Engineering.

The wait was not long.

When the king, his group, and the elf were comfortably sitting in a hastily erected pavilion, the king began.

"Regarding legendary pay - long ago the dwarves were given 7 magic rings, made by elves - give us 2 more."

"That," said Losse Seldo, "is a tough one. I am willing, and I'll do my best to get them, but I can not promise it, because I have neither the knowledge to make them myself, nor permission to do so. That knowledge has been seen as highly suspect ever since we learned that Sauron tainted all the rings he made. Surely you've heard what happened to the 9 human kings that got rings - how they became the ring-wraiths under the command of Sauron."

"Can't promise on the rings? Not good enough!" the king bellowed, then gruffly demanded, "what are you offering?"

"My own knowledge of magic is mine to do with as I please," Losse replied. "I'll share that with you."

"What good will that do us?"

"Well, among other things, I know two ways to make magic weapons."

King Thror's eyes lit up, and he declared, "Now we're talking!"

Losse Seldo's eyes went suspiciously to the ring on Thror's finger, but he continued, "Plus, I can show you how to make what we informally refer to as earplugs, which are actually very minor rings. I can see that you wear one of the seven dwarven rings. Sauron constantly whispers through them, encouraging vices such as greed. Dwarves resist those whispers legendarily well, and that's why Sauron moved to take back and re-purpose the dwarven rings. But still, it should be some use to you to have the earplugs, which completely block his whispers. The wearers of all three elven rings use the earplugs. They don't try to oppose Sauron's ability to send whispers - he is very strong indeed. Rather they oppose your ability to hear that kind of magic whisper, which is easy. So they are 100% effective."

The elf paused and looked at Thror to try to asses how his offer was being received.

King Thror recognized the negotiating tactic and answered clearly and forcefully.

"Not enough!"

The elf's response made it clear that he both knew dwarven psychology very well, and had already offered everything of significance he could, leaving him about out of other options.

"Well, I'll tell the elvish bards your story, and I will commission them to write the epic of King Thror, including any great deeds done, praise earned, and how you bravely took on the legendary monster Shelob. That commission will include singing the epic in public,"

The king's eyes lit up, and he demanded, "At least one such performance a year for a thousand years!"

"Deal." The elf was quick to reply.

The king glanced at the just-completed 50 foot tall statue of himself standing by the front gate of Lonely Mountain next to the not quite complete statures of his son Thrain and grandson Thorin, then looked at Durog with a knowing look.

Durog admitted. "I think I know what you are thinking, but that's just barely complete. It hasn't even been tested yet. And we only get one try with it even if everything else goes right. This is a legendary opponent. What do we do if it doesn't work?"

The king looked confident and excited.

He responded, "It will work."

Then he turned to Losse Seldo and said "Deal."

Durog's face went white with fear.

He hadn't imagined the king would actually make a deal with an elf, much less a deal to kill an unkillable monster.

"Well, OK", the part of him which was not gibbering in terror admitted to himself, "not unkillable per-se." But it had lived for thousands of years despite many attempts to kill it. And now it would acquire enmity for dwarves as they too tried to kill it. "Maybe even enmity for me personally," he thought sourly.

Durog reacted to his fears the way he preferred to when they did not present an immediate need to fight or flee - he tuned out the world around him, pulled out a notebook, turned to the next blank page - the one after his tentative plans for another steel tunnel, but big enough to admit a size 5 dragon and with holes in the bottom so spears could be thrust through from a parallel tunnel underneath - and proceeded to make notes on things he could do about the fear.

By the time he was interrupted some time later, by someone calling his name, he had partial plans for several things to do, and the order to do them in, if the first attempt to kill Shelob failed.

These included a note to inquire into whether it was just non-magic weapons, or all weapons that could not pierce Shelob, plus ideas on how to kill her in other ways like crushing, drowning, roasting, steam-blasting, dissolving her in acid the alchemists knew how to make by bubbling the forge exhaust through water mixed with certain powders from slag, or luring her into a crucible and pouring molten metal in, sealing her forever in a huge block of steel, or poisoning - he'd have to arrange with the humans to buy certain woods like oleander known to give off toxic smoke when they burned and then talk to the alchemists about capturing that smoke for later use. He knew they could do it, since he'd heard them talking about it, and...

"Durog!" the king called again more forcefully, snapping the young engineer away from his thoughts and back into the here-and-now.

"Yes, my lord?" Durog answered guiltily.

He could see that a fair amount of time had passed while he was working on ideas, since a signed contract lay on a table between the king and the elf, and a second copy was almost complete.

"Durog," the king continued more gently now that he had his attention, "we need a wooden spider built. Or rather some kind of fake spider - about horse-sized to start, but also other sizes later - to practice stabbing and shooting. Losse here says the elves can make magic items from giant spiders - which have significant inherent magic or they'd never reach such sizes - including weapons. It isn't easy. He says there is a particular spot where you can hit them and penetrate their poison sac but not kill them directly. Then you leave the weapon in until it dies from its own poison, and the beast's magic will flow into that weapon. They mostly use arrows to minimize their own risk - they say the spiders are fast and very agile. But it'd be good if the fake spider's legs could lash out - maybe by ropes and pulleys - to give us an idea what they can do so we can judge whether to try using spears against them. So I need you and your guys to work with the elf to make these things to get the shape and everything right."

King Thror turned back to the table to read and sign the just-completed second copy of the deal he'd arranged with Losse Seldo.

While he did so, the elf added "I've helped make such fake spiders before. We use them to demonstrate the techniques to the young in safety. You don't have to use wood...I don't see many trees around here..." He turned and signed the second copy himself.

The king turned back to Durog. "Losse also knows the process used to make his little vial of light that makes you tell the truth. We can't use it fully, since we haven't got a Silmaril available to catch the light from. So we can't make people tell the truth. But he says it should work to catch sunlight and re-radiate it to light our tunnels. That'll save us a lot on candles and lamp-oil. Plus it should bother orcs and trolls. Put the elf in touch with whomever he needs to help him with that. Make sure he gets the help he needs. As you know we're not used to dealing with elves like this."

The king stood to leave.

"One more thing - actually your first priority. He knows a magic symbol he calls an Accelerant, which really lowers the threshold of what counts as a Great Deed for making weapons become magic. It also slowly accumulates ambient magic and stores it, gradually making the thing it's on become magic. We want to get started on that immediately, and in a big way. Learn the details of that from him. He will be camping by the front gate."

The king paused, then said, "While all of that is urgent, we can spare a short time for you to hurry in and talk to Nerula before rumors reach her."

Durog sighed "No need. I'm sure she's heard all about it already a half-dozen times at least. But it's OK. That's one of the things I like about her - she doesn't blame me for things that are outside my control. Since she's already heard, talking to her now won't be any different than talking to her later, after we deal with issues that really can't wait, like this. It's just wonderful that she doesn't rank her feelings as being more important than urgent matters of state, life-and-death issues, etc. We'll be fine"

"She's pretty too." The king added impishly.

Durog blushed. "Yes, that too."

The king nodded and turned back to the elf.

There came an awkward moment when, from habit, the King turned to shake hands before parting, before he remembered that who he was about to shake hands with was an elf.

He awkwardly altered his arm motion to pick up a pencil from the table, as if that was what he had meant to do instead of shaking hands.

The elf clearly recognized that for what it was, but held his peace.

They both nodded to each-other, and King Thror left, along with all but a couple guards. He would not leave an elf unwatched even in these circumstances.

After a brief silence, Losse Seldo gestured at the orderly rows of 1 foot diameter stone balls in the near distance and said, "Somebody here has a lot of balls - is it you?"

Durog sheepishly replied, "I can't say. At least, I don't think I'm supposed to talk about things like that."

The elf smiled. "Then I will. I can see from the damage to them and everything around them - especially the pavement over there - that they fell from great height. I'd say at least 300 feet. I can see from the cleaned-up yet not entirely gone gore that they killed many orcs. It is obvious they did not end up in orderly rows on their own, so clearly they are being prepared to be used again. And it is easy to infer that there must be a delay elsewhere, or there would be lines of dwarves with wheelbarrows or something taking them back up. I would speculate that that delay is due to either damage being repaired, or a modification being added, to the place they are normally kept. And I can see from your face that my speculation is right."

Durog laughed, thinking of the damage the rushed launch had caused to the ball reservoir, which was not yet fixed.

The elf laughed along with him.

Durog said, "I can see that you will be a lot of fun to talk to, to the degree I can. Few have such active minds. Why are you camping outside by the gate?"

The elf's face grew serious. "It is clear that you are not a diplomat, so I'll just say it straight - I'm not welcome inside because I'm an elf. That's fair, no dwarf would be welcome in the city I come from either - not even in the same forest. I had to draw a map and write a letter of explanation to be presented to the elves of MirkWood for King Thror, so the expedition he is planning to go hunt giant spiders would even be possible at all. With those, he and his group can approach a spider-infested part of the forest from outside the forest, fight as many spiders as he cares to and leave never having entered the forest. With that approach, and because every dead spider helps the elves of MirkWood, hopefully the elves will not attack him. But it isn't certain. Elves and dwarves have had bad blood between them for thousands of years, with no few fights. If my life was not already in danger, I wouldn't have come here at all."

He paused and took a breath, which shuddered ever so slightly. "No, I mis-spoke. My life isn't in danger. My life is forfeit. Shelob will find me and kill me. I'm a tracker and can tell she has been following me despite my best attempts to lose her. I am dead unless this venture works. I estimate I only have 3 days."

"Then we had better get busy!" Durog said. "With enough preparation, I believe we can at least neutralize her," he thought about Shelob encased forever in a huge solid block of steel, "but if we are not prepared, then many more than you will die."

"We both have much to do," agreed the elf. "I made a bargain which we both verified under the Light of Truth, meaning, among other things that I have to transfer a lot of magical knowledge to you and your helpers in a short time. Let's get some paper, messengers, and the following list of ingredients..."

They got to work, it was a busy three days. Very busy indeed.

Three days later, an hour after night had fallen, Losse Seldo suddenly clutched the crystal amulet hanging around his neck, looked up from the diagram he'd been explaining to Durog and hissed, "She's here!'

No time was wasted.

The whole group, which consisted of Losse, Durog, and two of Durog's helpers, plus King Thror, the 2 elvish bards he was telling stories to - they were friends of Losse's who owed him favors - and young Thorin, who had also wanted to hear his grandfather's stories, plus 4 guards, all leapt to their feet and started immediately towards the tunnel entrance, just a few feet away.

Losse had previously explained his crystal amulet, and how to make more like it. It involved parts from a dead giant spider - primarily the eyes and leg hairs - dried, powdered and magically treated, and then immersed in a special watery solution at a specific temperature for what he called "crystalline accretion". A crystal literally grew from the components suspended there in the water! That magic crystal then gave the wearer some of the senses a giant spider has, including some surprising visual advantages and the ability to sense and interpret minor air movements.

So, though the kings guards had been told to keep watch, the fact that they had not been the ones to give the warning would not be held against them.

As one, the dozen figures began to run for the entrance - only 20 feet away - as fast as they could.

They didn't make it.

A huge black shadow rushed down the cliff face from above - running down the vertical surface on its 8 spidery legs as if the cliff was a floor, and beat them to the tunnel entrance.

The spider Shelob paused once she had successfully blocked the escape of her prey.

She was known to enjoy others' fear - some said she fed on it somehow - and so it was no surprise that her advance became slow, deliberate, and as menacing as possible.

"Begone, dwarves, I'm not hungry enough tonight to eat you," she said while carefully and deliberately moving one leg after another from the cliff face to the ground in front of the group. "Dwarves are bitter and they taste that way too! I'm here for this elf," she pointed a clawed leg-tip at Losse Seldo, "to show him the price of insulting me."

The group of 3 elves and 9 dwarves were slowly backing away from the entrance. All had their weapons out. Durog also had a bell out, with which he was already sending messages in mine code. Six of their weapons glowed brightly with magic - the King's spear, and the axes of Thorin and the 4 guards. All of their weapons and armor had the new Accelerant symbol etched into them.

Shelob did not appear to be concerned about that at all, but kept advancing slowly while she talked.

"Flee little dwarves while I kill your elf enemies for you. If you are still here in a moment, I will kill you too for the effrontery, even though it's a shame to waste food like that."

The King, and probably the other dwarves too, had spent a while coming up with something suitable to say, if he were to be remembered in the sagas for his actions here.

He backed one more step, set his feet, held his spear in a combat-ready stance, and said "why should I pay any heed to the words of a foe? Drop your bragging lies and come test yourself against my steel!."

Thorin took a stance next to his grandfather, raised his axe and, too excited by the moment, forgot his speech. He ad-libbed a defiant "Die, pond scum!"

The next dwarf raised his axe, started to speak, but was cut off by Shelob's sudden shriek and backwards leap.

She could leap surprisingly quickly.

She almost made it.

With a deafeningly loud crash and sickening squelching sound, Shelob was crushed under the massive warhammer 'held' by the until-now ignored 50 foot tall statue of King Thror standing next to the tunnel entrance with his back against the cliff face.

The warhammer's head measured 10 feet square and 20 feet long. It weighed a massive 168 tons, and obviously required one very strong solid steel statue to hold it aloft.

The arm holding it up had a ball joint at the shoulder, and when Shelob had reached the impact point, Durog's steady stream of mine code had added the command to release it.

In an impressive feat of engineering, it fell nearly silently.

Yet Shelob had felt and interpreted the wind of its passage and tried to leap to safety.

That leap had resulted in only half of her massive form being crushed under the huge warhammer. The other half, including her head, was free.

She proceeded to spew forth a stream of vile swearing and insults, while trying to free herself.

Durog was amazed that she was capable of anything at all after having half of her body pulped and flattened.

He made a mental note to enter the event, later, as both lucky - that she had been hit and immobilized - and unlucky - that she had not been killed.

"Feel the weight of my hammer!" the King roared triumphantly.

Shelob responded with insults, and taunts and jibes flew back and forth vigorously for a while.

Durog, amazed that the spider was still functional to some degree, sent mine code updates while hurrying with his assistants to begin setting up the temporary walls they'd prepared for drowning the beast in case it got immobilized yet not dead.

While he was working, both sides seemed to run out of ready taunts, jibes, and insults. There came a brief pause, after which the King asked "Shelob - you are old enough to know - who was at fault in the great split between dwarves and elves when we started hating each-other over the incident of the Nauglamír with Thingol in the First Age? Dwarves and elves each claim it was the other side at fault."

Shelob started laughing in a particularly nasty way, while still struggling to free herself. She did manage to get the hammer rocking a little.

Losse Seldo stepped forward holding his silk bag. He took out the Light of Truth, put a mirror behind it so all of its light went towards Shelob, and said "ask that again - I'd like to know."

The king asked again and Shelob, apparently very surprised at herself, said "neither side was at fault. Both were manipulated by the dark powers to think the other side was at fault, as part of a plan to turn light-side forces against each-other. I laugh every time I think of how well it succeeded."

King Thror, recognizing this opportunity may not last, saved his reaction for later and asked "Why did the orcs from Dol Guldur attack us - and why were you there?"

Orcs attacked things all the time, but this attack had been unusual in several ways.

Shelob increased her struggles but answered, "I serve its master, as do the orcs who were ordered to take your magic ring of power from you."

"Why do you serve the Necromancer?"

Shelob laughed again, "Fools! the necromancer is a just thin disguise for Sauron himself! Powerful though I am, he forces me to serve him, like he does with others as well."

Losse Seldo added a question himself "How can we permanently destroy Sauron?"

Shelob shrieked in despair, but started mumbling an answer, with each word spoken in a different obscure language, and with deliberately distorted pronunciation, as her efforts to free herself suddenly became extremely violent and frantic, to the point of self-destructive results.

The trapped portion of one leg broke off, and Shelob jammed the oozing stump of it in her own mouth to further distort and obscure her answer, which she continued to speak despite her extreme efforts not to.

The great warhammer pinning her flat started rocking alarmingly.

She mumbled and spat another few words while the dozen elves and dwarves moved closer straining to hear and understand what she was saying.

Then one of her legs came free and shot forward with lightning speed. It's clawed tip hit the Light of Truth, shattering the glass vial before continuing on to stab the center of Losse Seldo's chest. He flew backwards as most of the others only began to react.

The King and his grandson reacted fastest, only partly due to the speed enhancement from the Dragon-Forged components of their weapons.

Thorin swung his magic axe - now Double-Forged after another troll attack - with all his strength and snipped the end off of Shelob's leg.

Thror stabbed his spear deep into Shelob's head, right into the poison sac, and held it impaled there as Losse had previously instructed.

The 4 dwarf guards hacked at Shelob's other legs, but with little effect. Their Dragon-Forged weapons were not strong enough to really harm her.

Thorin hurried around cutting off all of Shelob's other legs close to the body.

As she lost her legs, she lost the ability to struggle.

Shelob, no longer under the Light of Truth, fell silent.

After a few tense moments, King Thror asked, "Is she dead yet?"

"No sir," Thorin stated, and chopped another leg shorter, "though she appears to be weakening."

He and the 4 dwarvish guards stood ready, but did not attempt to kill Shelob - they knew how much the King wanted his weapon to become even more magic by absorbing hers.

The two elf bards were helping Losse Seldo to his feet. He was shaky, bruised, and favoring some broken ribs, but offered, "She will die. Soon."

He took a ragged breath and said, "Thanks for the loan of the Mithril chain-mail, by the way. I owe you my life."

The king nodded agreement and Losse continued, "She is supernatural, and so her poison has a supernatural component as well. Nothing can resist it, not even her. My people have studied many bitten by Shelob and her children. Spiders of her type use a poison that sets the resources of the victim's body working against themselves. The nerves send the wrong messages to the muscles, so the next time the muscles engage, they do so at maximum strength and never release. This paralyzes the victim. he cannot move since his own muscles are locked up tight and prevent it. He can then be eaten by the spider at leisure. A second dose will similarly lock up his heart and lungs, killing him. Nothing can resist, no matter how strong, since the victim's own strength is turned against him. She, being supernatural, adds a supernatural element to that - the victim's own spirit, magic, and mental resources work against itself too. You can see how she is gnashing her teeth and hurting herself as her own anger and violence are turned against her. If she still had legs, she would be clawing at herself too. And though you cannot see it much - except a little shrinking and paleness - her own magic that sustained her and kept her alive so long is now getting the wrong signals and so contributing to her destruction."

"Watch", he said, and suddenly lunged towards Shelob, his sword extended to stab her.

She shuddered and died, though his sword had never touched her.

He gasped in pain, having forgotten his broken ribs at the wrong time.

After a moment he said "She had natural magic defenses against attack. I attacked, triggering those defenses but her poison twisted those signals, and so her magic went awry, hurting herself instead of defending. She is dead."

"Very nice," Said Durog, "but just in case can I ask you all to move, over here, just beyond this last wall we're about to set up, so we can drown her and be sure."

"What about my spear?" the King demanded, still holding it immobile within Shelob's poison sac.

"Withdraw it and let me see" Losse replied.

After examining the spear head - which had recently had a magic Accelerator symbol etched into it - for a moment, he said "your stab was faultless. You hit the poison sac without killing her. And your spear has absorbed her magic as it should. Yet it is not available for some reason. It seems to need to be, for loss of a better term, 'activated' somehow. I will study it and find a way. But for now we should move back - Durog looks as if he may start flooding us regardless."

Their slight chuckles relieved the tension.

As they started moving back, the King asked "So my spear did not quite get her magic - is that because you killed her?"

"I did not kill her," responded Losse Seldo, as he stooped to pick up a nondescript clod of dirt, then continued walking. "Your statue's warhammer, your own spear, and her poison killed her. I just tricked her poison into speeding up the job. But no weapon of mine ever touched her. No, your spear has her magic, as I said. It just isn't accessible at present. But it looks to be 'near the surface' so to speak. So researching how to complete that shouldn't take long. "

"That's good." the King responded with feeling.

They stopped walking not far beyond the stone wall that dozens of dwarves were building, supplied by a continual stream of dwarves with wheelbarrows full of large bricks. Durog was directing them, and other dwarves building buttresses to support the wall once it had the weight of water pressing out on it.

"You did say this wall around Shelob was temporary, yes?" the elf asked.

"Yes, why?"

"Just that most folks would make temporary walls that looked, well, temporary. They'd throw something together out of wood, for instance. Yours looks like it'll last hundreds of years."

"Wood?" a startled king replied. "Can that even take the kind of stresses needed to hold that much water? And as far as lasting hundreds of years - thanks but this work is shoddy indeed. It may only last 50. See that join there? Garbage! They're having to use 'shims' on it - a horrible idea we got from the humans. A mark of lousy craftsmanship if you ask me. And over there," he pointed, "they've even having to use wax to make it watertight. Bah!" he spat. "No self-respecting dwarf would ever want such work to be seen in public. It isn't fit for an afternoon picnic, if you ask me."

He stopped because the elf was laughing.

"OK, OK," a semi-embarrassed King added, "It's a point of pride for us. A quirk of ours. I'll grant you that. And we can cut young Durog some slack here - he only had a couple days to prepare, it was only one of many things to be prepared during that time, and it is only needed for, what? a few days to be really sure."

"True," the elf agreed. "And yes, two or three days should leave no doubt whatsoever. And you're right, with legendary monsters such as her, it is best to make certain. Speaking of which," he grew serious, "I know you can't recommend yourself for an honorific, but you've earned one so somebody should, and I intend to recommend that you be titled Thror Legend-Slayer. And I'll recommend Thorin as Thorin Foe-Trimmer."

"Thanks," the King blushed, "I don't know what to say."

The elf mercifully changed the subject. "Nice statue by the way. I'm impressed that it seems undamaged by the force of that blow. It appears that the arm holding the warhammer can just be winched back up and it will be ready for re-use?"

"Yes, answered the King. "It was intended for dragons, but worked well here too. 168 tons gives quite a wallop, even just falling unassisted by anything but gravity. The incomplete statues on the other side of the gate are my son Thrain and grandson Thorin. Thrain will have another warhammer, but Thorin is standing a bit further away so will need a halberd to give him the reach he needs. Durog says he can rig it to follow an arc as it falls, so it will reap orcs like wheat!"

"Nice," the elf allowed. "And I presume that similar tricks inside are what has been killing dragons and other things?"

"And with that, elf, you remind me of an important point."

King Thror turned very serious.

"You heard Shelob's answer as well as I. Shall we continue to play into the hands of the dark powers, dancing to their tune by holding grudges against each-other, or shall we start over?"

The elf clapped his hand together and exclaimed, "Oh, how I had hoped not to have to try to explain that to you. Dwarves have a reputation for stubbornness, as you may have heard."

They both laughed and the elf continued, "Thank you for seeing that. Yes, absolutely we should let bygones be bygones. It would be stupid to, as you so eloquently put it, 'dance to their tune'. We will also need to allow time - maybe a decade - for old habits, like insulting each-other, to die."

They shook hands, and called over all the others who had personally heard Shelob speak.

Durog came grudgingly, his wall nearly complete and he wanted to waste no time getting the enclosure filled with water.

So he delegated that and then went and joined the group of 3 elves and 8 other dwarves.

"Friends," King Thror began, "and yes I mean friends - we will need to be, since we will be spending a lot of time together traveling. We all personally heard what Shelob said about relations between our two races. We were set up to hate each-other. Tricked. Manipulated, and the enemy laugh when they think about it. NO MORE!"

He cleared his throat and continued, "all the other dwarves and elves - as many as possible, at least - need to hear our testimony: the testimony of those who heard it firsthand themselves. And they need to hear that testimony given in the presence of all the other witnesses, or they will think up ways that some kind of fraud or lie may be being perpetrated. That gives us the best chance they will believe us. We can start by sending messengers in all directions, to prepare things. But that must be followed by other dwarves and elves hearing us in person."

"It will never work," an elf bard said. "Dwarves are too stubborn."

"We can be too," Losse replied. "But we have to try."

"Too bad your Light of Truth was destroyed and there are no more Silmarils to make another from," Thror observed. "That would have made it easy - just demonstrate the light's effects, then testify under its influence. That should get through to even the most stubborn, like me."

"Who said it was broken?" Losse asked.

"I saw it smashed with my own eyes!" the king retorted. "The blow that Shelob meant to kill you shattered the glass and sent the bits flying. Surely the water has splattered all over and the droplets absorbed in the ground, lost forever."

"My ancestor was concerned about such things too," Losse remarked, as he help up the clod of dirt he had picked up earlier. "So the first thing he did was enchant the water to stick together like a gel. It's like a really firm pudding actually." he carefully brushed at the dirt clod until some of it came away and a beam of light came out.

"I'll have to clean it up, run some refreshing spells on it, and put it in a new glass vial, but there should be no problem in using it on our travels."

"Excellent..." the king began, but was cut off by a sudden roar of flowing water.

They all turned to look.

The temporary stone wall surrounding Shelob was complete, and the reservoir of water for supplying the trebuchets had been signaled.

They had positioned their temporarily-lengthened sluice and opened it up, so a cascade of water was falling over 500 feet down the cliff and into Shelob's enclosure.

It made a beautiful waterfall.

As the pool started filling, Durog hurriedly exclaimed "Great, fine, thanks. I'm in. Let me know the details. I'll be back in a minute." Then he hurried to Shelob's pool.

After a moment, he appeared on top of the wall around Shelob, and from there started emptying buckets of something into the water over the spider.

What are you putting in there?" the king called out.

"Shellfish I got from the humans of LakeTown," Durog replied. "This is a kind that somehow drills through even rocks, over time. I figured such a thing could penetrate even Shelob's hide, and then eat her. You can't be too careful with these legends."

The whole group laughed.

-0-0-0-

The next morning, in the King's Council chamber, at the end of a long meeting, the white-haired old Chief Scribe stood up and summarized.

"We've carefully gone over, with all the witnesses, first individually and then in groups, everything Shelob said about how to destroy Sauron - what they thought they heard, how they thought it was pronounced and so on - trying to make sense of it."

"We've written it all down, including all variations where there are disputes, using the elves' way of writing how exactly things are pronounced."

Here he nodded at the 3 elves present. At the King's insistence the whole "fellowship of the King", which is what the 12 witnesses were being called, were present.

"And," continued the Chief Scribe, "we've consulted with every expert we can presently reach. More will be contacted later. The writings will be preserved and distributed for future research too. But in the meantime, here are our best conclusions."

A general sigh of relief came from around the room as he finally came to the point.

"We can say with 50% confidence, that Shelob's first 4 words were, after translation, 'bite the wax tadpole'. Then with 40% confidence her next word was 'vinegar'. Then there is a 20% likelihood that her next word was Elvish for 'marinated beets lightly sauteed in a white wine sauce'. The next word after that was harder yet to tell, and it is only 10% likely to have been a trollish word for fresh-fallen snow. The last two words, we just do not know. There are no credible candidates. Possibly they are in dead languages. She used some pretty obscure languages there at the start before trying to think of so much at once, tripped her up and got her to use elvish and trollish, which are easy to translate. We're guessing that something in those languages reminded her of some really obscure language for the last two words."

"Ahem" coughed one of the elvish bards.

"Right, fine, have it your way," the old scribe grumped.

"Nimloth gar, there, says he recalls hearing an ancient," he just about spat the next word, asif it defiled him to use it, "unwritten ballad which had words sounding similar to the last two that Shelob spoke. Those words are of uncertain translation but had to do with traversing flowing water, fording rivers, or crossing streams."

King Thror answered, "It's not as simple and clear as I'd like. I'd hoped for something like 'Stab him in the left eye with a silver knife under a full moon'. But it's better than we had, and certainly better than nothing. It gives us ideas for experimentation at least. So write it up and add it to the messages we'd already planned to send to all the nearby elf or dwarf groups, like Mirkwood and the Iron Hills. You know: the message saying 'Shelob is dead. Her corpse lies before the gates of Lonely Mountain, come and witness'. And we'll get those sent out today. After that, I need you to redo this draft plan concerning the travels of the Fellowship of the King. It's absolutely daft to send just the twelve of us on such an important mission. Redo the plans for a small army to go with us."

"And the fellowship will be gone long enough that I'll need to abdicate the kingdom to my son Thrain. He's always wanted to be king, and thought I would never get out of the way fast enough."

At this statement Thrain rebuffed indignently, "I've never wanted you dead."

Thror replied quietly, "I know son. And you know I did not mean it that way."

"Okay then," Thrain nodded gruffly, then promised, "I'll be a good king. I'll pick up where you left off."

To which Thror replied, "Be a good king. Society prospers when people can depend upon just and fair laws and rulings, and it crumbles when ruled by arbitrary whims of those in power. But don't try to be me. Be your own king."

At this, Thrain grinned wide.