A/N: For Glorfindel's character, I decided to go with the interpretation of him being the reincarnated Glorfindel of Gondolin, even though that version cannot be considered strictly canon since it came from Tolkien's notes.
Also, my beta has confirmed that the ending of this chapter definitely throws the story into the horror category. So, um, sorry, that really wasn't my intention! But if you don't know me, I promise a happy ending.
Chapter 11: Checkmate
Glorfindel paced the winding paths carved throughout the mountain cavern, eyes roving over the bodies of elves who lay sleeping on the steps or in hollowed out nooks. On platforms above and below, healers moved among the comatose checking to see if they still lived. The sight reminded Glorfindel of ancient battlefields where elves had been slain and scattered across a gore-smattered vista. There was no blood to paint this scene, yet it was disturbing nonetheless, and it was difficult not to think of these poor souls as beyond all aid. Prince Legolas was hanging by a thread, and Elladan would not be far behind. Glorfindel decided that if Gandalf did not return soon, he would go himself to find the wizard.
A resounding crash had him whipping his head toward the palace gates, which were swinging loosely on their hinges after having been blown open by some great force. Glorfindel dearly hoped that was just Mithrandir's way of making a grand entrance, and not that they were under attack. Drawing his sword, he bolted down the stairs, leaping from bridge to bridge to reach the entrance faster.
Guards were already there, bows and swords aimed at two figures who strode through the doors. Glorfindel drew to a stop, eyes narrowing on the lithe woman who led the way. Her bearing was calm, chin held high, and dark eyes flicked casually over all the weapons aimed her way. Behind her, a scrawny man shuffled his feet nervously, and Glorfindel's suspicions immediately spiked.
"Who are you?" he demanded, pushing through the wall of guards.
The woman focused her attention on him, and for a brief moment, he thought she looked surprised, but she quickly covered it. "I've come to see King Thranduil."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Her lips twitched in a smirk, and she slowly lifted her hands to unwind the scarf about her head. Sable silk rippled to the ground, releasing a cascade of dark tresses. Hushed murmurs spread through the guards, and Glorfindel stiffened. She was an elf.
"I think the Elvenking would like to hear what I have to say."
Jaw clenching, Glorfindel jerked his head. One of the soldiers broke formation to run down the passage to the healing ward. The female elf took a step forward, and Glorfindel adjusted his sword to point at her chest.
She lifted a delicate brow. "Is it not customary to greet guests before the throne?"
"Guests do not usually break down doors," Glorfindel retorted. He cast a look over her shoulder, but did not spot any sign of an army waiting outside. Was it just her and this adan? The man looked uncomfortable, as though he had little confidence in the two of them standing against a dozen armed guards. The dark-haired elf, however, did not seem the least bit perturbed. In fact, even though she was an intruder and radiated malevolent intent, Glorfindel could see the Mirkwood warriors wavering; they did not draw upon their kin lightly.
Hurried footsteps signaled more arrivals, and Glorfindel glanced briefly behind him to find Thranduil and Elrond marching toward them. Thranduil's eyes widened when he saw the female elf, and apparent shock nearly drew him to a stop before reaching them. The guards in the center parted to let the elf-lords through, though Glorfindel made sure to stay slightly in front of them, for they were unarmed.
"Mornince," Thranduil said, voice low and almost soft with disbelief.
"Thranduil," she replied smugly. "And Elrond as well. Oh, excuse me, Lord Elrond now. Twas such a shame about Gil-galad."
A muscle in Elrond's jaw ticked. "Mornince. Where have you been for the past two thousand years?"
Glorfindel kept his surprise hidden as he scrutinized this strange elf. If Elrond knew her from the Second Age, that would explain why Glorfindel did not recognize her, for he had missed a great deal from that time period.
Mornince lolled her gaze back to Thranduil, a lascivious glint in her dark eyes. "Had you thought I perished?"
Thranduil's demeanor remained outwardly unaffected. "I had not given you a single further thought after your banishment."
Her expression darkened, and the air seemed to crackle. Glorfindel tensed, knuckles whitening around the hilt of his sword.
"Perhaps you should have," she spoke, tone low and menacing.
"Are you responsible for this?" Thranduil asked, voice tight now as he raised an arm to encompass the fallen elves visible behind them.
Mornince's mouth curved into a grin. "It was a pleasure to meet your son. He reminded me so much of Oropher—a fighter, but such gentle eyes."
Thranduil's nostrils flared and he surged forward, but Elrond grabbed his arm and Glorfindel shifted to body block the king, sword still pointed at the elf-witch.
Mornince laughed. "I told you that you would be mine, did I not? Soon you and the rest of Mirkwood will be under my spell." She cast each elf a cutting look, settling on the Ñoldor last. "I must say that Lord Elrond and the Balrog Slayer will also make delightful prizes."
Glorfindel frowned at her ability to recognize him. That meant she was quite old, as old as Galadriel perhaps. Had he met her in the First Age? It was difficult to say, as his memories from Gondolin were sparse and hazy at best.
"I'm afraid those are prizes you will never see," he said. "We discovered the method of how the curse spread and have eradicated it. No more elves have fallen into sleep since yesterday."
Mornince stared at him blankly for a moment, as though trying to decide if he was bluffing. She seemed that confident in her spell, and Glorfindel couldn't help but smirk with pleasure that she hadn't expected it to be thwarted.
The man behind her let out a soft snort, muttering under his breath, "Exactly as you'd planned, right."
She spat a hiss over her shoulder at him. Glorfindel narrowed his gaze on the adan; he must be the one who'd kidnapped Legolas. There were a great many punishments the elf-lord wanted to visit upon him right then, but that would have to wait. As though sensing the vengeful thoughts, the man began to fidget and glance back toward the open doors.
"Your plan has failed," Elrond spoke up. "Tell us how to undo the spell and we will deal with you fairly."
Thranduil made a low noise in his throat that suggested he did not agree with that, but he remained stoically silent.
Mornince glared at him. "Failed? Half of Mirkwood has fallen. I do not call that a defeat."
"We will break the curse one way or another," Elrond insisted.
"With what?" she scoffed. "You are not wizards. And the two Istari will not be coming back to help you, either."
Glorfindel stiffened, and exchanged an alarmed look with Elrond. Could she truly have defeated the wizards? Elrond's mouth nearly disappeared in a thin line, and the flicker of doubt did nothing to reassure the warrior.
Mornince returned her sharpened gaze to Thranduil. "Suppose there was a simple way to break the spell? Such as cutting off where it originated…the first elf to succumb." She grinned manically again. "Kill your son, and the threads binding everyone who fell after will be snipped."
Silence filled the mountain as no one spoke, though Glorfindel could feel the Elvenking nearly vibrating with boiling ire.
Mornince pursed her lips into a thoughtful moue. "Can you do it, though? What would his mother think? Or is she already sleeping?"
Glorfindel sidestepped instinctively, and Thranduil collided with his shoulder as the king tried to push past him again. The Ñoldo warrior flung one arm out to stay him while shooting a scathing look at the sorceress. "If we are speaking of the source, I suggest we try cutting off your head to break the spell."
Mornince hissed at him viciously. "You are welcome to try." Then she lifted her chin and raised her voice to fill the underground cavern. "I know they appear to be sleeping peacefully, but I assure you they are all suffering unimaginable horror. You all have a loved one trapped in this state, I am sure. Remove the prince, and you can save them."
Glorfindel jerked ramrod straight, sweeping his gaze around the Mirkwood elves perched on the bridges and platforms, calculating how quickly he could dash back to the infirmary. Elrohir was still there, and would protect Legolas… But as Glorfindel's heart rate spiked wildly, he noticed that none of the other elves had moved, nor had even cast a hesitant glance toward the healing ward. All of them kept silently staunch and defiant gazes on the elf-witch.
"One thing you could never understand, Mornince," Elrond spoke up in a level voice. "And therefore could never inspire, is the steadfast devotion and love the elves of Mirkwood have for their king and prince. You tried to gain it once through trickery and deceit, but you will never conquer it."
Her cheeks had begun to puff red with fury, and once again Glorfindel felt a sizzle on the air, like the plains during summer rains that heralded a storm. A twinge of nervousness rippled through the guards.
"Where did you put their fëar?" Elrond demanded.
"In a dreamscape," she spat before working to smooth her expression once more. "An endless realm full of delicious terrors that will hunt them down one by one for eternity."
Glorfindel sucked in a sharp breath. A dream world…then the comatose elves were potentially together.
Mornince paused, canting her head thoughtfully. "I will tell you the truth on how to break the curse. The prince is the key, as I said, and every realm has a backdoor. If your son finds the exit and slays its gatekeeper, all the elves' spirits will be released."
Glorfindel couldn't help but exchange a doubtful look with Elrond. She had no reason to tell them the truth, now or ever. They should just seize her and be done with this useless exchange of barbs and threats. He shifted to close in on her, eyeing the squirrelly human so he wouldn't escape either.
"However," she said, spearing Thranduil with a glittering glare. "There's no way for your son to know what to look for, or any guarantee he will succeed."
"You do not know him," Thranduil ground out.
She shot him a patronizing smirk. "He is your son, is that it? You know…" She tapped a finger to her chin. "One of his bloodline could serve as a key as well. What do you say, Thranduil? Would you willingly go into my world to challenge my gatekeeper? Or leave it all to your son?"
Glorfindel's mind immediately recalled how close Legolas had come to fading. What horrors was he battling in that spirit world, and would he have the strength to face this gatekeeper?
"Thranduil," Elrond said in warning. "You cannot trust her."
Glorfindel glanced at the Elvenking and saw two opposing resolves warring within his eyes—that of a ruler and that of a father.
"I must warn you," Mornince spoke up again, tone deceptively laced with saccharine concern. "Should the prince die in that realm, the portal will be sealed." The corner of her mouth curved upward. "Forever."
Legolas's eyelids flickered open, and he blinked at the now familiar roots dangling above his head. How was it that he could sleep when he was already dreaming? The absurdity almost made him snort in amusement. Almost.
He shifted, wincing as the movement tugged his wounds. They were healing though, he felt sure of that. He was tempted to pick at the makeshift bandage and inspect them, but Elladan would throw a fit. Glancing around, Legolas noted that the Peredhil was gone, and the immediate vicinity outside the hollow was completely quiet. He pushed himself forward and inched out, leg muscles cramping from being tucked in that small space for a prolonged period.
When he finally straightened, Legolas went rigid. Half the trees surrounding him were covered in glistening white webs, huge sections of mesh draped between trunks to create a partial enclosure. Legolas whirled around in search of the others—how could he not have heard anything!—and staggered under a wave of dizziness. His injuries were still taking their toll. He shot one hand up to brace his head, and as his vision focused, his heart seized at the sight of a giant bat hanging upside down from a branch to his left, trails of goop spiraling from its mouth as it wove a bulging cocoon to the tree's trunk.
Ignoring the flare in his side, Legolas scooped up a gnarled branch and swung as hard as he could at the creature. The wood struck with a resounding crack that sent the bat flying through the air and crashing to the ground with a squeal. Legolas nearly doubled over, but managed to hold himself up with the branch as the bat squirmed and juddered, its pitiful mewls grating his ears. Yet it appeared to be crippled, so Legolas whipped back to the cocoon it'd been weaving. The six-foot cocoon.
Legolas's heart dropped into his stomach. Valar, no. He stumbled forward and began clawing at the webbing. Sticky gossamer threads peeled apart, some pieces fluttering away while others clung to his fingers. He frantically ripped more of the seams loose until he found a pale, raven-haired head underneath.
"Elladan!" Legolas cupped his friend's face, terror surging through him at the closed eyes. He patted Elladan's cheeks, but got no response. With his pulse fluttering erratically and upsetting his already precarious balance, Legolas tore at the rest of the cocoon. He barely got the webbing off Elladan's shoulders when something slammed into his side and knocked him to the ground. Pain flared through his injured side as he rolled onto his back, gasping for air.
In his peripheral vision, he could see a second bat flapping leathery wings to hover in midair. Legolas groaned and tried to force himself to get up, but before he could, a sheet of white dropped down from above, covering him like a net. Sticky tendrils adhered to his skin and clothes, completely inhibiting his ability to move.
The dark blob that had dropped the web glided over to alight on the trunk of another tree, which Legolas now realized also held a tightly spun cocoon. The other bat flapped over to Elladan and perched on the Peredhil's chest. Legolas watched in mounting horror through the webbing's gaps as the creature opened its mouth and sank its fangs into Elladan's neck.
"No!" He writhed and struggled under the unyielding net, hair getting tangled across his face and mouth as more dark shapes descended to land on two more cocoons. The horrible sounds of sucking and slurping reached Legolas's ears before his pounding heart drowned it out in a roaring deluge of panic.
His arms could barely move, and so he stretched his fingers as hard as he could, grasping for anything he might use to break free. He managed to get his hand out from underneath the web, and it brushed against a familiar piece of jagged granite. Pulse spiking, Legolas desperately tried to grip the dagger. All he had to do was turn it around and saw through the strands…
A chitter nearby sent chills up his spine, and he craned his head to see the bat he'd hit crawling across the ground toward him, one wing joint bent at an awkward angle. Orange eyes flared venomously as it limped forward and flopped on top of his chest. Legolas tried to buck, but he just couldn't move.
Nubby claws pinched his tunic as the bat hauled itself up to leer above his head. The maw opened wide, and with a delightful screech, the bat lashed downward. Intense pain pierced Legolas's neck, tearing a strangled scream from his throat. The demon's body shuddered as it sucked sharply. Legolas felt hot liquid trickle down his neck and his vision blurred. His dimming gaze sought out his friends, each one pinned by a bulbous bat also feasting on their blood. It was the last image seared into his mind as his eyes slid closed under a wash of agony.