A/N: I meant to post this earlier, but my plate has been a bit full at the moment so I didn't really get a chance. But here it is at last, Chapter 7. Oh and I would just like to thank Skessa for giving me the referance to the name Coros. It was used in the story "Nazgul Tales" by Murasaki99. I don't think it is a story from , and I couldn't work the link to it, but no matter. Anyway here it is. Enjoy, and please review!

Disclaimer: Despite my greatest efforts, I have so far failed to steal Tolkien's identity, and as a result i don't really own any of his stuff. I will inform you if this changes.

Ancient Survivors

A chill swept slowly over the southern eaves of Greenwood. Night was falling. The enormous twisted branches creaked in the cool evening wind. The silent perimeter of trees at the rim of the wood was broken as a soft slithering displaced several leaves at the rim of the forest floor. A cloaked figure stood at the edge of the ancient forest, his black robes waving ever so slightly in the wind. After a moments pause, the figure slipped between a gap in the mass of mighty trunks and let the darkness of the forest swallow them out of sight.

Khamul looked around. Despite the darkness of the forest, the wraith saw quite clearly. Quickly he began to move through the forest, almost gliding, moving silently, effortlessly through the sea of ancient twisted trees. The leaves and tufts of grass on the forest floor withered as he past. Khamul did not really know what he was looking for. He just let his instincts, and whispering mind guide him. Soon, he knew, he would find something. Something that would, perhaps, lead him to whatever he was after.

There was a small scuttling sound to his left. Khamul whipped around, sword drawn soundlessly from its sheath. Beneath his hood, his red eyes scanned the line of trees, searching for a sign of movement. There it was again. The sound of something scuttling along the mess of leaves that covered the forest floor. Something shifted slightly in the darkness. Fast as a snake, Khamul darted between the trees and grappled the unknown creature, positioning the point of his sword inches away from the beings bulk. After a few seconds of tense, silent struggle, the shape relaxed. Khamul at last had a chance to look at the creature. He stared, hissing in surprise. Lying on the forest floor before him was an enormous spider.

Very slowly, without any sudden movements, Khamul placed the edge of his sword against the massive creature's belly. The message was clear enough to the beast. It remained motionless.

Khamul's mind raced. There was only on thing this creature could be. He remembered well the tale of Melkor, his destruction of the Trees, and his journey to Middle Earth. One had travelled with him, a female Maia, in the form of a giant spider. Ugloint. Both the forces of good and evil remembered the name with dread. When she had been driven away by Melkor after attempting to steal the Silmarils, she had retreated to the dark places of the world, breeding and filling the darkest corners of the land with her filth. Khamul now realised he could be dealing with the spawn of a fully fledged Maia. The next steps had to be taken with the upmost care, he knew. Cautiously, he extended his whispering consciousness towards the creature. He touched its mind, and was astounded by what he found. He had rarely come across such a complex and intelligent mind as this being possessed. Choosing his words very carefully, Khamul began to speak.

"What brings you here, spawn of Ugloint, great arachnid, devourer of light?"

To his great surprise, after a moment's hesitation, the spider answered.

"Once a being was created, great and powerful. Eight legs she had, and eight talons on each. White creatures came, with white hair, and shone with great white light. They brought white hot blades to her, which cut off two of her eight legs, and smashed all of its talons. The great creature fled, but the white hunters pursued. They cut off two more of her legs, and smashed their talons, but still, the one continued on. It outstripped the hunters, and hid in dark caves. Two more of its legs died, and the creature could no longer continue. But before the white hunters caught up, she hid her remaining legs where none of the hunters could ever find it. And so at last the great beast died, but still, its legs remained hidden, until they grew, and became thorns in the sides of the hunters, of whom some remained in the land. And ever since have the hunters been at war with the remains of the great creature, who had the foresight to leave her legacy behind."

Khamul understood instantly. The spider was, in her own way, telling the story of her mother and how her family was hunted down. This spider must be one of the daughters of Ugloint, represented as one of the legs.

"So your mother hid you," said Khamul with an inward smile. "And you came here, perhaps, to seek vengeance against the elves?"

All eight of the spiders eyes bored into the emptiness beneath his hood, and he knew he'd gained the spider's trust.

"My name is Grisha," it hissed. "I am the mother of my clan and family. We came here to devour the elves that hunted my mother and killed my siblings. We have been here for thousands of years, quietly residing here. The elves fear to go to this part of the forest."

"And the other leg…?" enquired Khamul, remembering the riddle-story.

"Shelob," Grisha replied. "I have not seen my sister in many years, and I fear that will not change."

"You hate the elves, do you not Grisha?" whispered Khamul. An idea began to form in his mind, but it would require the most careful and subtle work against the most unpredictable of creatures, feeding the right hatred, fuelling the right anger.

Grisha let out a hiss of displeasure.

"The elves have hunted us," she replied. "They have burned us like animals, they strike us with their white-hot blades. They killed my sisters, and brought about the death of my great mother. Yes, I hate the elves."

"Would you like to hunt them?" asked Khamul, pressing his advantage. "Would you like to hurt them, to devour them? To see them burn in their beloved forest, to watch them snap like twigs under the combined force and power of both yours and mine strength and numbers? Would you like them smashed, and ripped apart, to provide food for you and your family?"

This time Grisha's hiss was one of pleasure.

"Yes."

Under his hood, the Shadow of the East smiled.

"Tell me Grisha," he whispered. "What do you know of Sauron the Great?"

A/N: I particulary enjoyed writing this chapter. I wanted to show how the realm of Dol Goldur was established. Khamul will be getting a lot of chapters devoted to him, in fact he'll probably get the most. Please review and I hope you're enjoying the story!