Chapter Eighty-Two: Shelob's Lair
Despite the darkness, and the slippery, razor sharp rocks, and the heavy blanket of fear that surrounded the place, Nelly did not mind the stairs too much. They were so steep that it was just rock climbing, with slightly more convenient hand and foot-holds. It was hard to worry about what was behind or ahead when already you had to worry about where to put your hands next, where to step to make sure that you did not fall. It was also something she was good at, something that she had practised. Something she enjoyed.
The boys did not seem to be enjoying it as much, if the mutters and groans behind her were anything to go by, but Nelly kept climbing. They would call if they needed her, and it was the oldest rule in the book to avoid looking down too much. As the day wore on, the climb grew steeper, and she began to nick herself on the rocks more often. Her ankles collided with ill-placed stone, and the skin on her knees was scraped away by a particularly sharp, overhanging step. Her arms were beginning to ache, and her hands to cramp, but she pushed on, and finally, as the dark day shifted to darker night, she reached the stone ledge at the very top of the staircase.
She was the first to arrive there, save Sméagol, who was crouching by the entrance to the least appealing cave that Nelly had ever seen. Its mouth was a gaping hole with cracked, stony teeth, and great, grey cobwebs hung over the wall. Only a few feet in, the light vanished, and Nelly swallowed.
It certainly looked how she would expect the entrance to Mordor to look.
The thought of going in there made her stomach curl, but it seemed that she was the only one who thought so. Sméagol did not seem nearly as afraid as he had been every other time that he had spoken of Mordor. Instead he seemed almost excited, hopping to and fro on the rocks, and out of the corner of her eye, Nelly thought that she could see the creature smiling.
She turned around, but even as she opened her mouth to ask what he was smiling about, Gollum's face contorted into a frown of concern. She narrowed her eyes and turned away, sitting down to wait for the boys and Toothy to catch up. Frodo was the next to reach her, his cheeks flushed red, though the rest of his face was pale, and grew paler when he saw the entrance to the tunnel. He met Nelly's eyes with a grimace, and sat down beside her, breathing heavily.
Sam was next, as the least confident climber of the group. ("Go behind Frodo, Sam, it'll be easier to catch just one of you if you fall," Bróin had said jovially.) His face was as flushed as Frodo's, and when Nelly helped him up the final few stairs, he all but rolled up. After him came Bróin, with a grin on his face and no sign of weariness.
"Just like a Saturday afternoon at home, hey?" he said, only a little breathless. He turned, and patted on his knees to encourage Toothy up the final few steps. "Atta boy… Good boy…"
If Nelly had to bet on which one of them had enjoyed the climb the least, her money would be on the warg. He had not much liked being forced to the back of the group, but they could not risk him falling, and knocking everyone else down. Nelly had not even been sure that he could be able to climb the stairs, but somehow, Toothy had scrambled his way up, and he clawed his way onto the ledge with the others. He shook himself down from head to tail, and then his beady eyes fell on the entrance to the cave. At once they narrowed, and his hackles rose, and his lips pulled back over his teeth as he snarled.
"It's alright," Bróin murmured, though he did swallow, and take a step away from the cave under the pretence of fondling Toothy's ears. "Good boy. Shh, good boy."
Glad for the excuse to keep her back turned against to Mordor, Nelly stood up and stepped forward, scratching the side of the warg's neck. "I think you enjoyed that even less than Sam did, didn't you? Weren't too fond of being at the back, hey?"
Toothy whimpered and nuzzled at her neck, and Nelly gave a soft laugh.
"Never thought I'd be comfortable with a warg so close to my throat," she murmured, scratching the end of his nose. Then she turned, and looked at Frodo. His eyes were fixed on the cave, and they were full of fear. She swallowed, and stepped over, offering him her hand. She did not speak, but she did not need to. With a sigh, Frodo took her hand and pulled himself onto his feet. Together they turned, and faced the cave.
A waft of warm, stale air stroked Nelly's face, and she grimaced, her toes curling beneath her. Already, she could smell the faint whiff of death, and the tunnel inside was dark as a mine shaft. The walls of the place looked oddly smooth, though they were shrouded with cobwebs and shadows, and that unsettled her. Walls of natural caves were rarely so smooth, but if they were carven tunnels there was a chance that the excavator had been a goblin. And there was a chance that there were goblins still there.
But it was not like they had a choice.
"Come on!" Sméagol insisted, beckoning eagerly. "Come on hobbitses, here we go! Into the tunnel, yes, yes, and then to Mordor, yes, precious."
Slowly, Frodo rose to his feet, and came to Nelly's side, peering into the gloom before them.
"I don't ask anyone to come with me," he murmured, a grey hue to his face that made him look unnervingly like Gollum. "You could take Toothy, ride far from here. Ride home."
"We could," said Bróin evenly. "But we're not going to."
Frodo glanced at Nelly beseechingly, but she smiled and shook her head a little, putting her hand on his shoulder.
"We all know what we signed up for, Frodo. Come on. Let's just get it over with." She took a deep breath, and then plunged herself into the darkness of the caves. At once, the smell hit her – a putrid stench of evil and death that had her plugging her nose with her fingers, and fighting against the instinct to gag. From the sounds of it, Bróin lost that particular fight.
"By Durin," he choked from behind her, "What is that stink?"
A hand closed around Nelly's wrist, and Frodo spoke softly "We'll travel two by two, hand in hand – that way we should be able to reach out to the wall to know where we're going without accidentally splitting up and losing each other if the path forks. Sméagol, will you lead us?"
"Oh yes," crooned Sméagol, and Nelly shivered, pulling her wrist from Frodo's grip so she could properly take his hand. "We will lead you."
With that, the creature turned, scampering down the hall so quickly that Frodo gave a cry.
"Wait – slow down!"
"This way!" Sméagol sang. "This way."
"I don't like this," Bróin muttered.
Frodo sighed. "We don't have to like it." He stepped forward, and Nelly stepped with him, her free hand reaching out to the wall beside her. It was damp, and cold, and a little sticky, but as they moved deeper and deeper into the darkness, she refused to let her fingers leave it. It was her anchor to the outside, her one way of knowing where she had come from. The stench grew stronger as they walked, and Frodo's hand tightened around hers until it was almost painful. She would have complained, if she was not so sure that her grip was just as tight.
And then, the wall disappeared from beneath her fingers.
She stopped, and at one Sam crashed into her from behind.
"Omph!"
Toothy whined, and Nelly took a deep breath. "The tunnel opens up – my wall's spent. There's got to be a fork here, or-"
"Five," said Bróin. "I can just about see five tunnels."
"Great," grumbled Sam. "So which way do we go? Frodo?"
Frodo was very quiet. His hand was clammy in Nelly's, and oddly hot, and she felt him shudder beside her. He did not speak, and after a very pregnant pause, Nelly decided to take matters into her own hands.
"Well, they all smell awful," she sighed. "So there goes Gandalf's advice on picking passageways.."
Sam gave a small laugh. "I don't think Gandalf would've meant to come this way at all."
A spasm of pain shot through Nelly's hand as Frodo clenched it tightly. She sighed, and touched her cheek to his shoulder for a moment. "We'll be alright. We'll be alright. We just need to choose a path, that's all. So, which way do you think we should go?"
No one answered her. Of course no one did. No one had any more of an idea as to where they were or which road to take, or even which direction they were heading in. No one, that was, except –
"Sméagol?" Frodo called. "Sméagol, where are you? Which way do we go?"
There was a pause, a long one, and then Gollum's voice drifted towards them from far away – too far away. "This way, this way! The middle tunnel."
A shiver ran down her spine, and Nelly took a deep breath. She reached out, and tugged Frodo with her as her fingers passed the first doorway, and then the second, in order to reach the wall of the middle path.
"It's here," she whispered, and her lips were so dry that they stuck together for a moment.
"Come on," muttered Frodo, hurrying along the passage. It twisted and turned, and their hands began to glance over side tunnels – dozens of them. That did not surprise her. What surprised her was the size of them. They were great, gaping holes in the walls, tunnels almost as large as the one they were in, and she wondered how many there were – how deep they ran.
The dark was stifling, and the scent of death was shoving itself down her throat, and her heart was racing to beat even faster than her feet. She could feel Frodo's clammy palm within hers, and she could hear Bróin and Sam hurrying along behind them, still close, and she could hear the heavy panting of Toothy behind them, but it was so dark that it felt like being alone. She could see nothing – if she closed her eyes it made no difference.
This must be what it's like to be blind, she thought, shivering. Her ears strained all the more, listening for any new sound, any sign of danger.
Toothy began to whine, his pitch so high it almost hurt her ears, and their pace grew quicker and quicker. Nelly's heart beat began to race against her feet, and her lungs drew in shorter, sharper breaths.
"Remember, kid, if you can help it, don't get desperate. Desperate can make you faster, sure, but it can also make you stupid. Desperate can make you dead, if you ain't careful."
Nori's words drew her up short, and Nelly paused.
"What? What is it?" Frodo demanded, his voice tight.
"Nothing," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "Nothing… I just… let's not lose our heads, alright?"
"Alright," replied Frodo. "But let's keep moving, too."
She nodded, though she knew that no one except maybe Bróin could see, and began to walk again, keeping her footsteps measured.
And then her fingers touched something sticky.
She gasped and recoiled, and in the same moment Frodo cursed.
"What is that?"
"What's what?" asked Sam, his voice disembodied by the dark.
"There's something on the walls," she said, stretching out her fingers to get a better feel. "It's sticky, and stringy – almost like – Oh, Mahal…"
"What?" repeated Sam, his voice higher than before. "Almost like what?"
"Faramir said this pass was called Cirith Ungol," she breathed, turning to the darkness where Frodo was standing in the hopes that he was about to prove her wrong. "What does Ungol mean in elvish?"
Sam gave a groan, and it was Bróin's turn to demand answers.
"What does it mean? Nelly, for the love of Durin, this isn't time to practise-"
"Spider," Frodo whispered. "It means spider."
An ear-piercing howl ripped the air apart, and Nelly could not help but scream as she turned. She could see nothing, but Bróin clearly could, and he cried out.
"Toothy! Come back! Toothy!"
"Shh!" Frodo let go of Nelly's hand and lunged back. "Bróin, we can't risk so much noise. He'll find us, I'm sure he will. Let him go."
Bróin moaned, and then Frodo grabbed Nelly's wrist once more, tugging her onwards.
"Quickly!" he ordered. "Stay together! Sméagol! Sméagol, where are you?"
There was no reply, only silence, and their sharp, staggered breaths as they hurried blindly through the tunnels. They needed light – Nelly knew it – without torches it would be only a matter of time before someone ran into the wall, or worse – into a giant spider.
Or caught their foot on some awkward debris and flung themselves into a side tunnel.
Which was, of course, exactly what happened.
Her left foot came down on something sharp, and she gasped, and even as she lurched forward something else caught against her shin. Her hand was wrenched from Frodo's as she tumbled forwards, and her arms flew out to the sides in a desperate attempt to slow her fall – but she did not fall far. Something caught her – something large, and soft and sticky. With a cry of disgust she tried to back away, but whatever it was clung to her legs, and no matter how she struggled, it barely moved at all, other than swaying from front to back, and making her feel rather ill. And then she realised what she must have fallen into, and her stomach did a backflip.
"Get me out!" she gasped. "Frodo, Bróin-"
"We're right here," came Bróin's voice from behind her. "Maybe I should cut her down, Frodo? I can see a little better than you, after all."
She heard steps and shuffling behind her, and then felt a hand on the small of her back.
"I've got ya, Nell," murmured Bróin softly. Then, she felt a tugging beneath her right arm, and the grip of the web weakened a little. She wrenched her arm backwards again, and Bróin swore, ducking as her elbow broke free, and missed his head by inches. "Whoa! Let me cut you loose before you knock me out!"
"Sorry," she mumbled, her cheeks warming.
A faint howl rose from somewhere deep in the tunnels, and cold washed over Nelly. Bróin froze, and then began hacking at the web by her legs with twice the speed.
"I hear something!" warned Sam. "But I can't see, I can't see anything."
Frodo gave a gasp, and Nelly heard his pack thud to the ground. She could hear him fumbling behind her, but more importantly she could move her arms, and her legs, and she managed to wiggle her left leg free entirely.
"I found it," Frodo breathed. "Aiya Eärendil elenion ancalima!"
At once, light bloomed behind Nelly, a silvery white-blue glow like pure starlight, and it revealed the corpse of a rotting orc hanging less than a handspan from Nelly's face.
"Kakhuf inbarathrag!" she shrieked, stumbling backwards so quickly that she tore the rest of herself free.
If any part of Nelly had thought that she would feel better being able to see the tunnel, it would have been wrong. Completely wrong. Great cobwebs draped over the walls and stretched across the tunnels, and some bound the corpses of goblins and birds and rats, dangling them from the ceiling like trophies. When she turned towards Frodo, Nelly saw a skeleton on the ground behind him, clutching an old, twisted sword. That must have been what tripped her…
"Wow," Bróin breathed in awe, and for a moment Nelly wondered if he had lost his mind. She turned to ask him if that were the case, but then she saw that his eyes were fixed not on their surroundings, but by the starlight clutched in Frodo's hand. "That's beautiful. When – how – did Galadriel give you that?"
Frodo nodded, but before he could speak, Sam gave a choking gasp that made the hair on Nelly's arms stand on end.
Slowly, Nelly turned to see whatever it was that Sam had spotted, and the moment she did, her knees gave out beneath her.
Spider.
Big, big, spider.
It was but an inch smaller than the tunnel itself, so big that there was no way beneath or around, no way past, and its gaping jaw was open as it hissed, and edged towards them.
Even as her knees hit the ground, and he boys let out cries of despair around her, Nelly grappled with the blade on her belt and scrambled back onto her feet.
"Go!" she gasped, grabbing Sam and dragging him back. The spider lunged, and they stumbled backwards, but as he did so, Frodo raised his fist into the air, and light shone on the inky beads of the spider's black eyes. The creature let out a hideous, shrieking hiss and drew away, and Nelly darted down a nearby side-tunnel.
The boys were on her heels as she fled, dodging dangling corpses and vaulting over stones, but there was no escaping the tacky mesh of webs that stretched out from the walls, fawning over their clothes and slowing them down.
Every time she glanced over her shoulder, Nelly saw that Frodo looking back too, holding the Phial of Galadriel threateningly towards the spider, which seemed to shrink whenever the light hit it. But it was growing braver, and dancing into shadows that were less and less black, and Nelly knew that Frodo could not run forever with his eyes over his shoulder.
They had to get out.
They had to find the way out.
She knew that Mordor was east, but she had no sense of direction, no idea where she was, and she knew that there was no logic that could save her now. A dead end loomed before her, with a passage to both left and right on either side, and there was absolutely nothing that could tell her which path would be better. No logic, or even educated guesswork.
All she could do was pray as she leant into the corner and took the right-side tunnel. She heard the boys behind her, heard the hiss of the great spider, and then skidded to a halt.
Webs.
At least a dozen great webs, each spanning the entire passageway, and leeching out to cling to each other, lay between them and escape.
She shook her head, and with a growl raised her sword, hacking at the first lot of webbing. "Help me! Frodo, keep that light on it! Quick!"
Sam tore at the webs with his hands as Bróin and Nelly cut a path through, but Frodo's frantic warnings and every glance over her shoulder told Nelly that the spider was getting bolder – getting closer.
The light was beginning to pulse, growing fainter, and then stronger, and then fainter again, and every time it grew fainter, the spider grew closer.
"Hurry!" Frodo cried, lunging forward to give a wave of his sword, and the spider darted back. And then it lunged forward, snapping its jaw –
"Stand back!" Bróin ordered, tearing Nelly's eyes away from the beast before them as he sheathed his sword and took a few steps back towards Frodo. Before she could ask what he was doing, Bróin, hunched his neck down and gave a roar, charging shoulder first through the weakened webs. Nelly's heart seized, but whether due to the work of their blades or Bróin's sheer strength, the webs could not hold him. Instead, they ripped apart and all but floated to the sides of the tunnel, dangling from the walls in defeat and leaving a hobbit-sized hole for the others to dart through.
"Come on!" Bróin urged, and Nelly darted after him, easily batting away the few stubborn wisps of web remaining. She heard Sam panting behind her, heard Frodo cry out from behind, "It's gone!"
Nelly glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, the tunnel behind Frodo was empty.
"Never mind that!" demanded Sam, shoving Nelly forward and then lurching back to grab Frodo by the collar. "It won't be gone for long, I'm sure!"
"I think I can see a light!" called Bróin eagerly, and Nelly felt a breath of relief. They could make it yet.
After a moment, she saw it too, a very faint glow ahead, and they sped towards it so fast that it felt like her feet were flying. The arch of the end of the tunnel came into sight, but it did not look right – there was still darkness behind it, and the light was still too weak to be day, and her gut began to curl.
She narrowed her eyes as they grew closer, and she began to see what looked like a chamber in the rocks, but she barely had time to register what it was before Bróin stepped out into it.
And the moment that he did, a great black shadow barrelled into him, tearing him away from her.
"Bróin!" Her scream tore at the inside of her throat, but already it was history, and she threw herself out into the chamber, her eyes widening in horror. The spider had found them, had headed them off, and it had charged Bróin – and its stinger was lodged in his arm.
A lightning storm of thoughts charged though her mind, and she seized one, charging the spider from what she could best guess was its blind-spot, raising her sword to strike.
The beast side-stepped and dodged the blow, and Nelly span with the motion of her sword to stop its momentum from throwing her off her feet. Already, the spider was turning back towards her, aiming its stinger, but Nelly was too quick, and Sam and Frodo were with her. They dodged and jabbed at the spider, distracting it away from Nelly and Bróin.
A shriek pierced both the air and Nelly's ears alike as Sam got a swipe in on one of the beast's back legs, and it gave Nelly the opening that she needed. The spider's legs seemed quick as an arrow in flight, but Nelly was just as fast. She ducked beneath the beast's belly and flung herself at the wall, reaching Bróin just as his knees gave way.
"Bróin!" she gasped, grabbing his uninjured arm, and he groaned, his eyes darting up and glazing over, and desperately trying to focus.
"I'm… alright…" He choked, but he knew it was a lie as much as she did, terror shone from his hazy eyes as vomit began bubbling from his mouth.
"You will be," she promised, glancing up to where Frodo and Sam were still distracting the spider. They did not need her. Not yet. "You're going to be perfectly fine. Just keep breathing, alright? Keep breathing for me, just for me, keep breathing, Bróin."
His chest heaved as he dragged in deep, wrenching breaths, and he clutched at Nelly's arm with a sweaty, fumbling grip. "It… hurts…"
"It's alright, you're alright, you're going to be fine," she insisted, desperately looking at the passages around them. They needed to know which way was out, they had to hope that if the beast hated the light the sun would be enough to save them. Overhead was a small hole in the roof of the tunnel where the sun was seeping through, but it was too high to hope to climb there if Bróin was unable to walk.
Was Bróin unable to walk?
She looked back at him, her heart jolting as she saw his flickering eyes. "Hey, hey! Stay with me, Bróin, stay awake, now!" she ordered, tapping his cheek gently. "Come on, Bróin."
His grip on her arm tightened, and he grunted, dragging himself up onto his feet. "C'm'n," he mumbled, "Got… go…"
Though she wished that she could tell him to sit and rest, but she knew that they had to get out, that Bróin had to move, so she nodded, steadying him as best she could. "That's it, that's it, come on Bróin."
His head lolled into a nod, but then his eyes widened, and he gave a choked cry, and Nelly turned just in time to see Sam fly into the wall, and land motionless on the ground.
She and Frodo screamed as one, and when Sam did not move, the light of the phial in Frodo's hand faded to a soft, flickering glow.
At once, the spider struck, and Frodo disappeared beneath the bulk of the beast. Leaving Bróin clawing at the wall for support, Nelly raised her sword, but before she could reach the spider, something crashed into her from behind, and a pair of wiry, grey legs wrapped around her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. The hands came next, closing around her throat and squeezing, and the reality struck her like a boulder to the chest.
Gollum.
He knew, he knew about the spider, and he wanted them to get caught. He wanted them to die.
He wanted the ring.
He had knowingly, willingly, led them to their deaths.
Now his hands were a vice around her neck, and he was going to strangle the life out of her himself.
Well. She had only one thing to say about that.
"Not… bloody… likely!" she growled, throwing herself backwards and smashing Gollum against the hard, rock wall of the cave. He gave a screech, and the grip on her neck loosened a little, giving her a chance to get in a little more breath. Anger ripping from her in a roar, Nelly flung herself back again, twice, and she heard a sickening crunch, and Gollum's legs fell away from her. Quick as death she turned, raising her sword, but again Gollum robbed her of the chance to strike, fleeing into one of the other tunnels with a squawk. and she raised her sword.
She lurched after him, but then she remembered what he had pulled her away from, and her heart sank.
Frodo.
For a fraction of a section, she stood frozen, too afraid that she would see all three of her boys dead if she turned, but she forced herself to spin anyway. Frodo was on his stomach, scrambling away from the spider, but it was looming above him, and the stinger was coming down –
"Back you devil!" yelled Sam, his voice trembling, and he raised his shield hand. Nelly had less than a second to glimpse the glass of Galadriel's vial before it began to glow, and then it shone, white and pure, and searingly bright. The spider shrieked as though it were being pierced by a thousand arrows, and curled in on itself, backing away down on of the passages. It hissed furiously at them, and its jaw gaped one last time, and then it was swallowed by the darkness.
"Frodo!" gasped Sam, but Frodo was already on his feet.
"I'm alright," he breathed, pale as death as he clasped Sam's arm. "Are you hurt? Nelly?"
"I'm alright," she called, reaching Bróin's side. To her surprise, he was still on his feet, and his pain-glazed eyes scoured her face.
"You…. Sure?"
"I'm fine," she promised, taking his good arm and looping it over her shoulder. "I swear, I'm fine. We need to get you out of here."
"There's only one way to go. We came from that way, and the spider went that way," Frodo said, his voice trembling as he stood on the other side of Bróin. He wound his arm around the young dwarf's waist, helping Nelly support his weight. "Sam, you go first. Galadriel should have given the light to you – you seem to use it best."
"Now that I disagree with, but this is no time to argue," muttered Sam. "Come on."
He led them down the last passage, and silence shrouded them, swallowing everything but Bróin's rasping breaths, and dull thump of his stilted, stumbling footsteps. He could not move fast, but he was moving, and that was something. He had to keep moving. Had to keep breathing.
He had to.
If he stopped –
Nelly gritted her teeth and forced her eyes to stop her tears before they could start. She had to focus, had to keep moving.
And then she saw it – light. It was pale and grey, and not at all like the light from Frodo's glass, but as they hurried towards it, it grew stronger, and the tunnel's edge grew sharper, and they began to see outside.
For a horrible moment, Nelly thought that they had gone all the way through the tunnels, only to end up right where they had started. She could catch a glimpse of a tall dark tower, and if it turned out to be Minas Morgul – if they had come all this way for nothing –
But they had not. When the tunnel finally surrendered to the outside, it was not the Morgul Vale that they saw. Instead, they came out to grey rock and ash, and it was as much of a maze as inside was. Over the rocks, she could see the top of a black tower, but its shape was different to Minas Morgul, and it looked to be a little further away.
"Quickly now," said Sam darkly. "That spider's still around somewhere, I don't doubt, and Stinker, too!"
"Toothy," mumbled Bróin, and Nelly shuddered as he retched, and vomited all down his new tunic.
"Stop – Sam, wait!" said Frodo, and Nelly rubbed Bróin's back as he shuddered, his head dropping onto her shoulder.
"No... wait," Bróin insisted, shaking his head slowly. "Keep… goin'… Toothy?"
"Toothy will follow us," Nelly promised, though she had no idea whether or not her words had a chance of being true. Carefully, she and Frodo manoeuvred Bróin around the sick on the ground, following Sam's lead as quickly as he could. It was a good lead to follow – Sam was careful, very careful, and much cleverer than he gave himself credit for. When the grim pathway passed through a crevice between two high stones, he checked both sides before creeping through, and then he signalled the others to follow.
But Sam did not look up.
With nothing but a shadow for a warning, the spider swung down from above, and before Nelly could even blink, its sting was embedded deep in Frodo's stomach. Before Nelly could draw breath to scream, the spider drew back, quick as lightning, and then struck again, plunging its poison straight into Bróin's gut. Frodo collapsed to the ground, and as a moment later as the spider drew back, Bróin fell beside him, and a scream of denial and anguish burst from Nelly's throat, even as she realised that she was next, that the spider was drawing back –
And then with a roar so vicious she could not believe it was him, Sam threw himself at the spider, and his sword came down. The spider screeched, and he struck again, and again, and the spider backed away, writhing in on itself and falling over its legs on the way back into the tunnel. The darkness overwhelmed it, and then there was a final, ear-piercing screech, and then there was silence.
Its stinger lay on the ground in a pool of black blood, an eerie, black vapour rising from it into the air.
Nelly could not breathe.
Her chest was rising and falling, and quickly, but no air was moving in or out of her lungs, and she could not make herself take a breath. She could only look down, and see Bróin and Frodo, face down on the filthy ground.
Bróin's eyes were open.
Unseeing.
There was no scream that would come. No howl or roar or wail – she could not make so much as a whimper. Her knees buckled, the stone scraping the skin from them as she landed, but she did not feel it. She only felt the cold, clammy skin of Bróin's neck beneath her fingers.
She only felt nothing where she should feel his pulse.
"They're not…" gasped Sam, struggling to breathe himself as he tumbled over to them. "They can't – no, no!"
Nelly shook her head slowly. Sam was wrong. Any moment, any second, Bróin's eyes would shift into focus, and he would groan, and maybe puke, but he would roll over and stand up and say how much his gut hurt. In just a heartbeat's time, Frodo would shake his head and wrap his arms around his stomach, looking rather green, and very much alive, and they would stumble away.
Sam did not need to fall beside Frodo, to sob and rock him in his arms. Frodo was not dead – his unseeing eyes were just resting. He was about to take a breath, about to wipe the foam from his lips and cough up the rest from his lungs. The bile pooling beneath Bróin's lips was just the last of the poison, and it was going to be gone, and he was going to spit the acid out with a grimace that would make Nelly laugh, and he was going to blink away the terror frozen into his sightless eyes, and he was going to be fine. It was only the trembling of Nelly's own fingers that stopped her from feeling Bróin's pulse, only the tears in her eyes that prevented her from seeing his chest rise and fall.
It had to be.
Sam had to be wrong.
He had to be wrong.
Her fingers splayed out, moving down from Bróin's neck to his shoulder, and she shook him, hard. He did not move. She rolled him over onto his back and pressed her palm against his cheek, but even as her finger brushed his hair out of his eyes, he did not so much as blink.
But he had to move. He had to. She shook him again, harder, and she tapped his cheeks and tweaked his nose, but nothing happened.
"Bróin – Bróin! Wake up. Come on, come on, wake up!"
"Nelly..." Sam's voice was soft and broken and pleading, and she did not care. Not one bit.
Her eyes burnt and stung beneath her tears, and her voice stumbled around the lump in her throat, "Stop it, Bróin, just wake up! Just get up, please, don't leave me. Please don't leave me, please, wake up! Wake up!"
A hand rested on her shoulder, but she ignored it, trying to rub life into Bróin's icy palm.
"Wake up. Wake up, please, please…"
With a sob, Sam wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her towards him and resting his chin on her head. "He's gone, Nelly. They're gone."
"No," she moaned, her eyes moving to Frodo. His eyes were closed, and she gasped. "Frodo – he blinked, he moved-"
"No," whispered Sam, his voice breaking around sobs he did nothing to hide. "I, I closed his eyes, Nelly. He's gone. They're gone."
Nelly's voice rose towards a wail. "You're lying!"
Sam said nothing in his defence. He just held her tighter, and pressed his cheek against her hair, rocking her back and forth in his arms.
Just like he had rocked Frodo.
And Nelly realised that Bróin was not going to blink. Frodo was not going to roll over.
They were gone.
A feeling of emptiness overcame her, hollowing her from head to toe, and bleeding every bit of strength from her body. Her body fell limp against Sam, and she felt him hold her tighter, felt him press his cheek against her hair. And she felt her ribs crush in around her lungs, and splinter through everything inside them. She did not even have the strength to draw the breath needed to cry.
"Breathe, Nelly," whimpered Sam, his tears soaking her hair. "Please, breathe, Nelly. You can't leave me, too."
A sob broke free from her battered lungs, and she gasped a breath, grabbing onto Sam's arms tightly. She did not know how long they cried together, how long they spent crumpled on the cold ground of Mordor beside the bodies of their friends. Their family. But she knew that her ears pricked up, and she heard footsteps, and halted her sobs with a rasping breath.
Orcs.
At once her teeth set on edge and she crawled to her feet, desperate to strike, to kill something, to avenge Frodo and her Bróin, but Sam grabbed her arm and began to drag her back. She opened her mouth, but he clamped a hand over it and pulled her back to the edge of the cave, dragging her to her knees to hide behind a large rock.
"We don't know how many there are!" he hissed, holding out his hand. Nelly looked down, and her eyes widened. The Ring was there, sitting on Sam's palm, looking so beautiful and innocent.
It looked like it could not possibly have been the thing that just stole her Frodo and her Bróin's lives from them. From her.
Sam shoved it down his shirt, and she saw the chain around his neck. Two chains – one silver, and one gold. As her eyes narrowed, Sam's filled with tears, and he showed her a familiar, mithril shield hanging from the silver chain.
"I'm going to give it back to Thorin," he mumbled almost silently. "If we ever get the chance to see him again. Frodo – Frodo would want it to go back to Thorin."
Biting back a sob, Nelly nodded, glancing back at the boy's broken bodies. "We can't let the orcs – you know what they will do to them!"
"But if we get caught?" Sam whispered back. "If they take the Ring? Then it's over, Nelly, and it's not just us who'll be dead. It'll be the whole world. We – we promised, didn't we? That we'd keep going, no matter what?"
Nelly closed her eyes, the skin of her arms beginning to break beneath the piercing grip of her fingernails. Yes. They had promised that. And if Sam – if trembling, terrified, heart-broken Sam could live with that, she would too.
For as long as it took to get the job done, at least.
She did not think she wanted to live for any longer than that.
The voices of the orcs drew nearer, close enough to hear words, and she closed her eyes, trying to concentrate.
"... so, Shagrat, you 'aven't said. What brings you up this neck o' the woods, anyway? Takes a lot to tempt you from your tower nowadays."
There was the harsh bark of a laugh, and the hair on her arms stood on end. "Thought you'd'a known, Gorbag. Word came from Minas Morgul – Nazgûl uneasy, possible spies on the stairs – they said. And eh-oh – looks like there might'a been some truth in that!"
Nelly's gut churned, and she peeked through a gap in the stones before her. They were coming around the corner now, and to her grim horror, she counted at least thirty. She and Sam would struggle to take on thirty armed orcs alone.
But the orcs had seen Frodo and Bróin, and more than anything she wanted to charge them, to force them away and stop them from desecrating her boy's bodies –
"Well blow me down," said the first orc, the one she guessed was Gorbag. "What 'ave we got 'ere? This'un's a dwarf, that's for sure, but what's this little thing? An elf runt?" He kicked his metal tipped boot against Frodo's head, and Nelly heard Sam growl softly as her own fists clenched.
"No," said Shagrat, "No, I reckon that's one o' those halflings the scum of the Lonely Mountain took in. Ain't you 'eard the rumours? Vicious little things, they are by all accounts, and quiet as death. They ride to war on the backs o' wolves, and can disappear in the blink of an eye."
Nelly and Sam shared a grim grin at that description, and Gorbag seemed to find it equally amusing.
"Ha! I doubt that. This runt don't look like a warrior. Now, a spy, maybe. You said you heard word from the Nazgûl?"
Shagrat spat on the ground. "We did. Curse 'em – not that that's any use, now, them being His favourite. But much as I hate 'em, they 'ave good enough instincts – if these scum-rats ain't spies, I'll swallow my sword."
"Wait a sec, what's that?" demanded Gorbag, and Nelly froze as heavy footsteps stomped towards them. She tore her face away from the gap in the stone and hand clamped over her mouth, staring at the terrified Sam, but when Gorbag spoke again, he was still several feet away. "By the great eye… wha' is that?"
There were several more heavy footsteps, and then Shagrat let out a low whistle. "I don't reckon our little spies came in alone," he said softly, dangerously, and Nelly and Sam shrank further back into the darkness of the cave. "That's old Shelob's stinger. She's not gonna be best pleased – ain't no one managed to even stick a pin in 'er before! There's a warrior about, you mark my words. A large 'un – an elf, I reckon, or a damned big man."
Well, that's an entertaining description of Sam, she thought, glancing at the spider's black blood still oozing off of his sword.
Gorbag snarled. "Well, that's just great. Where were you, Shagrat? Ain't your boys supposed to be watching the stairs?"
"We were watching," Shagrat growled back, "and we saw funny business alright. Lights, and shouting. But Shelob was on the hunt, and there's no getting between Her Ladyship and her pray."
"That's as maybe, you best hope you and your boys catch this warrior," said Gorbag. "Or you'll be in great trouble."
Shagrat spat at the ground again. "We'll find 'im – if Shelob hasn't got 'im first."
"I don't reckon she did," said Gorbag. "I reckon if she'd got 'im, and 'e was in 'er larder, she'd've already dragged this scum back with 'er too. She don't waste much in the way o' fresh meat. Whoever this warrior is, he don't seem to care much for these'uns. Just left 'em lying there – typical elvish trick. Still – all the better for us. One each, eh, Shagrat, that sounds fair."
Nelly stiffened, but Shagrat seemed to think about as much of that plan as she did.
"Not likely," he snarled. "They'll 'ave to be taken straight to the tower – those are the orders. Orders from Lugbúrz, no less. All spies caught are to be taken to the tower, and stripped. All they got 'as to go to the Eye, and all prisoners is to stay in the tower – alive – until either He calls for 'em, or He comes Himself."
Gorbag laughed. "Well, you've failed that one already, old Shagrat! These two're already dead!"
"Oh, Gorbag, you were sounding so clever," sneered Shagrat. "All your talk of warriors and fresh meat, and you missed the main point. Old Shelob – her poison don't kill. She doesn't eat carrion, and she doesn't drink cold blood. These fellows ain't dead. She jabs 'em, and they go limp as boned fish, so she can hang 'em up and feed when she chooses. Your warrior must'a got at 'er before she could wrap cords around 'em."
Any warmth that had remained in Nelly's body left her, and the blood left her face so quickly that her head began to spin.
Not dead.
Not dead.
How could she be so stupid? She knew of the tale of Mirkwood, she knew how the spiders had knocked out the dwarves and saved them for later, she knew it.
But she had forgotten. She had done what Nori had always told her never to do, and lost her head to fear and grief. And now, Frodo and Bróin were lying unarmed and unconscious, at the utter mercy of more than three dozen orcs.
What had she done? What had she done?
"Well, in that case you best get 'em to the tower quick," said Gorbag. "I don't reckon Shelob'll be too happy if she comes back to find you pilfering 'er larder. And while you're at it, you best get on catching that warrior. There ain't no point sending word to Lugbúrz that you've caught the kittens but lost the cat."
Panic rose hot in Nelly's throat, and she shifted off of her knees and into a crouch. They had to move now – they had to at least try and take out these monsters, to try and stop Frodo and Bróin from being taken, they had to try –
But Sam seized her wrist and shook his head with wide eyes. His own horror and guilt were wrought into his face, but he signed fiercely to her in Iglishmêk. "No! There are too many! We should follow, figure out a plan!"
"No time!" she signed back. "Once they get into the tower, they're good as dead! How're we supposed to break into an orc tower, in Mordor? There's just two of us! Now, while we have the chance of surprise! We have to try!"
Sam bit his lip, but nodded, and pressed his face against the crack in the rock. Nelly peered through over his head, her heart racing faster and faster in her chest. Already, the orcs had Bróin and Frodo in their arms – already, they were carrying them away.
"Now!" she whispered, but even as the word left her lips there was a sickening thud, and Sam crumpled to the ground beneath her. A hand clamped over her mouth and nose, and another wrapped around her neck, squeezing until she fell against the rock before her.
Then, it squeezed harder, and the world began to grow blurry, and dark. She could hear the blood pounding through her ears, feel her frantic scrambling do nothing to free her – again, there were legs wrapped tightly around her arms. Again, she could not move enough to use her sword.
"Nasty hobbitses," Gollum whispered in her ear, squeezing tighter still and choking the last of the air from her lungs. "Should have just given us the precious, yes…"
There was no air in her now, and she knew it would be a matter of seconds before she closed her eyes for the last time. She had no air, and no hope.
But she did have her fury.
And she was Nelly Took, and she would not go down without a fight.
She let herself fall limp, and held it as long as she could. Gollum was still choking her, and she knew she had a window of only seconds before her feigned death became true. When she could not bear it any longer, she smashed her head back into Gollum's, and he gasped, his grip loosening just a little in surprise.
Just a little.
Just enough.
She sucked in a deep breath, and it burnt all the way down into her lungs, and then she twisted out of Gollum's grip. She took another breath, trying to stop her head from spinning, but there was no time to dispel the stars before her eyes. Relying only on instinct and anger, she lurched forward into Gollum, knocking him to the ground. He growled, and tried to close his hands around her throat, but he had lost the element of surprise, and that was the only thing that could have ever allowed him to win a fight with Pimpernel Took.
She seized his arms and thrust against the ground, crawling forward to hold them in place with her knees. And then she sat on his chest, and stared at the wide, furious eyes of the creature that had betrayed them.
"You…" she whispered, fury shaking her voice. "You tried to kill us all. You let the spider reach us – you let them take Frodo and Bróin!"
"It… was… the precious!" Gollum gasped, but Nelly shook her head.
"No. It was you," she murmured, and as she thought back on all she knew of Gollum's past, and all that he had done to Bróin, and to Frodo, and to Sam, she made up her mind. "You killed your cousin at the mere sight of that thing – but you did not kill my cousin, and you will not. I am going to get him back, and we are going to destroy the ring, and you will never touch my family again!"
Whether it was fury or fear or shock that made her shake so badly, Nelly did not know. She had always sworn that she would never kill anything other than an orc, unless it be in the heat of battle, or in a hunt for food. But even as guilt tried to twist her gut, resolution quenched it, and she clamped her hand over Gollum's mouth, and raised her sword.
His eyes widened in fear, and she hesitated, but her eyes glanced at Sam, stirring only a little on the floor before her, and to the gap in the rocks. Already, the footsteps of the orcs were far away.
If she showed Gollum the mercy that Bilbo had, he would hurt them again. Of that, she was sure. She wished that she had Bilbo's choice, that she could walk away with her hands and her conscious clean, but she knew that was only fantasy.
"I will always do anything to protect my family," she whispered.
Even if it makes me less than half of the hobbit Bilbo is.
She took a deep breath and made sure that her left hand was secure over Gollum's mouth. If he screamed, he would kill Sam, too.
And she let out the breath.
And drove her sword between Gollum's ribs, and into his heart.
And in less than a minute, with a sea of his lifeblood beneath him, and his bulbous eyes glassed over, Gollum was dead.
Duh duh duuuuh! I hope you enjoyed that (mammoth) chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! This piece truly helped me to enjoy my writing again, though some of it also nearly made me cry, tbh.
Please do let me know what you think if you can, it means the absolute world to me, and I love to know if you have any theories/anything you want to see.
Take care!