Rating: T
Disclaimer: The characters and places belong to Professor Tolkien.
Beta reader: Cairistiona
Warning: This chapter is not suitable for those who are bothered by reading about violence and for arachnophobics.
6. A star in a cobweb
It was dark. It was so dark... Eärendil could not move. Where was he? Was he... still alive? So dark... He could not feel his body. There was only darkness. All-encompassing, black, choking darkness. And silence. Deep. Unnatural. As if he were out of time, out of space in some place that was not really a place. It felt like... the Void... He wanted to break the silence, to hear his voice, to assure himself that he was still alive. He could not open his mouth. So dark...
Sssssssss...
A sound. Close? Far? He could not tell. Echoes came from everywhere. There was space, there was time. But there was no hope. Something menacing was in the sound. He shivered. Maybe the silence was better... Darkness everywhere...
Smell. Purid. Nauseating. Rotting corpses of hateful years. A smell choking him with despair with every intake of breath... Filling him with darkness. Darkness all around... darkness inside. It suffocated him. He couldn't breathe. He had to. With every breath he felt tainted. His head spun...
A touch. It pierced the dizziness, penetrated his blurry consciousness like a poisoned arrow. Light but sharp, like claws running slowly along his arm... or bristles of some large insect. He tensed. Fight! Flee! – something very deep in him screamed. But he could not. He could not move. Something was holding him, something sticky entangling his body. He could feel his neck hair standing up in disgust. His body mercilessly claimed his attention. He could feel it. Distantly, at first – hanging on sticky threads in darkness. And then he could feel everything. He wished he wouldn't.
Pain. For a moment there was no sound, no smell, no other feeling... just pain. After it chewed him and tore him to pieces with its sharp teeth, it retreated into distinct parts of his body – left arm, wrists, head... It was only pain. Nothing new. He has been injured before. But here, in this darkness, even a minor injury was overwhelming until he willed the pain back, where it belonged, together with the rising panic. He was alive. But where was he? And how did he get here?
He felt the touch again – a light caress from something that could tear his flesh like paper. He gritted his teeth, unable to flinch from it. There was another sense... not hearing, not smell... not even touch or pain. He could not see – but he could feel the darkness, like a solid, physical thing. It emanated from a huge shape looming above him. He struggled with his bonds, wanting to flee, anywhere, away from this place... It was a spider. A gigantic, hideous form looming high above him, touching him with one of its long legs... The bonds holding him were firm, and cut into his wrists with every movement. They would not yield. It was a cobweb...
"Ssssssssssssss..."
It was the spider making the sound, hissing like an angry snake. The sound changed suddenly.
"...sssssssssssssso the fly got stuck in the web..." a low, female voice said, dripping with poison. There was no spider anymore. Before him stood a high woman, standing strong and queenly like Varda, but emanating darkness instead of light. She was clad in cobwebs, and her nails were long and sharp like claws. Her eyes were big and cruel, expressionless like the eyes of some insect, and four pupils were in each of them. She was beautiful, in a way, but it was the beauty of a maelstrom, luring and devouring.
She ran her nail down his arm slowly, and it felt just like the touch of the spider. "What an unexpected visit..." she murmured. "Oh indeed..." her fingers caressed his shoulder sligtly. "I didn't want to catch YOU!" with the last word she dug her nails into his flesh. He cried out in pain before he could stop himself. "Where is your light?" she fastened her grip, and with the question, memories rushed back through the pain.
The bats. The sky covered with leathery wings. They did not attack, but drove Vingilot in one direction, far to the west and south where he never sailed. He stood at the helm, following the sky before him, ready to fight his way through the bats if something worse appeared...
But he did not try, knowing the small chance of success of such attempt. He never knew what he crashed into. There had been nothing ahead – just the dark sky. Too dark... Suddenly the ship was trapped in a mass of sticky threads, a giant cobweb! The bats flew away like a startled flock of birds. Something more terrible neared... Darkness in the form of a spider.
Eärendil draw his sword and began hewing at the threads. They wouldn't yield. The spider neared... No time! He hit the cobweb with all his strength. One of the threads snapped, hitting his hand painfully. He hissed, but continued with renewed strength, encouraged by his success. He didn't look back. He could feel the approaching darkness. It climbed the ropes of its own net, nearing. No! You won't get it! He hit the rope furiously. The front legs of the spider touched the ship. Eärendil shuddered in revulsion, as though feeling them on his own body. He hit the rope one more time with a desperate cry – and it yielded, strained by the weight of the spider.
Despite its size, the spider nimbly caught another rope, and began to climb up again. Vingilot shook in her sticky prison, eager to fly away. The movement strained the web, and with the help of the ship Eärendil was able to quicklycut the threads imprisoning her. The last ones broke under her pull, and she was free! Fly! Fly away, Vingilot!
But in that moment the spider jumped after the ship, sinking its giant claws into the white wood. "No!" Without thinking, Eärendil rushed to the spider, hewing at the monstrous legs with his sword. "In the name of Ilúvatar! You won't get the light, creature of darkness!" Maybe it was the name, or the blows of his sword, but the legs pulled back. Fly! Eärendil cried at the ship in his mind. She struggled against the spider's weakened grip for a few moments, but then she jumped forth. The spider swung his legs one more time in a futile attempt to catch the light. Eärendil didn't look back. He was looking forwards, to the free sky. He didn't see the swinging leg. It knocked him off the deck, and then... he didn't remember anything more. There was only darkness.
The pain brought him back to the present. "Where is the light?" the spider-lady asked, digging her nails into his arm. He didn't answer. A suspicion began to grow in him. He knew who she was... No, never would he give the Silmaril to her!
Ungoliant.
The queen of Wights. The one who killed the Trees, and almost killed Morgoth, too, when he denied her what she wanted. The Silmarils... The holy Jewels to sate her eternal hunger for light – to devour it and turn it to darkness, to weave webs of Unlight around her... Unlight... that was the choking, solid darkness all around. But she had not got them then, and she would not get the last remaining jewel now.
It must get away from her! Vingilot...
Eärendil reached to his ship in his thoughts. It was there, in the sky. Flying lost and alone, avoiding the bats. He called her, caressed her with his mind, trying to detach himself from the pain and darkness. Vingilot... fly home... he guided her with his thoughts just as he would in battle, when he needed both hands free. But never before had he tried to do it at such a distance. It was exhausting, and he almost swooned, but he managed to keep his concentration even when the claws dug deeper into his flesh. To find the way home... Oh how he wished he were on her deck now!
"The light! I want it!"
"You won't get it!" he cried out defiantly, still keeping a part of his concentration with the ship.
Suddenly she withdrew her hand. "I always get what I want..." she hissed, her eyes glistening dangerously. Eärendil shivered at the words. They were true, except for one thing: the Silmaril. She wanted it so badly just because she had been refused it. "I always get..." she whispered, caressing his cheek. Her body was so close to him... She emanated darkness. Her eyes bound him, he was unable to avert his gaze, although he could not really see anything – yet he saw her in his mind, her cold gaze looking at the very bottom of his soul.
She was terrible and yet irresistible, binding his will to her cruel beauty. But one part of his mind was still with Vingilot, and that part screamed at him that was just a trick, a wicked spell! At her touch, he felt revulsion. But he could not move, and her lips neared his... She leaned in as though to kiss him. She breathed in slightly, and he felt his strength leaving him, leaving emptiness and darkness... his head spun... the putrid smell filled his lungs again.
"Bah!" she backed away. "You half-mortals are so weak! One could kill you accidentally! That is what will happen if you don't give me what I want, my lovely fly... I will devour the light of your soul instead of the one on your ship. It tastes almost the same..."
Eärendil was shaken to the very core of his spirit. Never before had he felt something so terrible. Only the bond with his ship kept his will away from despair, as hard as it was to maintain with so little strength left. Would she really do it? The very thought made him shiver. But no... he tried to convince himself. She needed him alive. It was the Silmaril that she really wanted, and only he could tell her where it was, on its way home... And he would never tell her that, even if she tried to devour his soul.
"Oh? You don't want to talk?" she purred. "Hmmm... maybe I should ssssssstop being nice... Again she changed her shape to a spider, looming above him in her hideous form. He tried to not think about her, not to look. Vingilot would be home soon...
The bristly legs touched him again, and he gritted his teeth. He almost cried out when something sticky touched his bare chest. She was wrapping him in a cobweb, he realized with horror, while a small part of his mind wondered what happened to his tunic, and most importantly, to Eönwë's cloak. He did not want to lose the gift... It was absurd – he would probably never see the Maia again, and here he was, worrying about his cloak. But it was better than thinking about what was happening to him...
Suddenly the threads around his body tightened, drawing a cry of pain from his lips. He could feel them cutting his skin, the warm blood trickling down... Almost there... Almost there... he reminded himself, maintaining his bond with Vingilot through the haze of pain.
Shhhh... It will be all right. Everything will be all right... Eärendil almost sobbed when the words touched his mind. Eönwë? Could it be? Or was it just an illusion of his weary mind? He clung to those words with all his will, not caring if they were real or delusion. The threads of the cobweb cut deeper and deeper into his flesh, and then began to shift like snakes... like black poisonous vipers crawling beneath his skin... He screamed. It didn't help...
Hold on, Foam-flower! Soon we will be in the harbour... Eönwë's voice strengthened his will. Yes, the harbour... Soon Vingilot will be there... He must hold on! He... must...
Another presence brushed his mind like a fresh gust of sea breeze. Elwing... He gritted his teeth, locking the screams inside. Just a little while longer...
He could feel Vingilot touching the waves of the sea, the cool water washing his wounds... Rest... And a wave of despair when he realized he was not there, but trapped in the webs of darkness. As though to a last ray of light, he clung to the connection with his ship. He would stay with it to his very last moment! But the thought of dying alone in darkness was so terrible for the bearer of light...
Where is the light? I WANT IT! Even in the spider form, the demanding thought cut into his mind like a jagged blade. It was getting ever harder to resist it... But somewhere in the distance, he could feel a gentle hand giving him strength. No, not to him. Someone was repairing the ship...
I WANT! the darkness assaulted him again, almost tearing the bond in his mind.
But amidst all the darkness, there was suddenly a memory of light, like the golden flame of a candle behind a thick black veil. I'm here, my friend... Eönwë! He could hear the Maia's voice, and reached for it desperately, like a child scared by a nightmare.
I'm coming, Eärendil! Please show me the way! The voice was getting weaker, sounding from a great distance. Guide me to you... were the last words Eärendil could hear before the darkness weighed him down again. Guide me to you... Eönwë was the mightiest warrior of Arda. He can save him... He can defeat the spider...
Maybe... maybe there was still hope that he would not die in the darkness...
With all his mind Eärendil reached for that hope. One more journey... oh, did he have the strength to do it? The ship was repaired now, but guiding her cost him so much! Would he have any strength left to resist the darkness? Would he not send the Silmaril into her hungry maw? He refused to give up the only hope he had. He tried to lift the ship up... He cried out in pain from the strain. The web tightened again. He could not breathe...
You can do it, my friend... he felt Eönwë's presence, although the voice was so distant. Yes, he can! He must! He gritted his teeth, and felt the ship rising slowly, gaining height...
The journey was a struggle of will. During the worst pain, he fought to remain conscious and maintain the connection. During the assaults of darkness into his mind, he fought to keep the bond with light. It could have been hours that passed... it could have been days. He longed for a release, but there was none. Only the faint feeling of Eönwë's presence strengthened his will to endure. But he knew the worst trial was still ahead...
He could feel the ship nearing... The bats would be there... But Eönwë could fight them, Eärendil knew. He led the Maia to this place, but he would not let him fall into Ungoliant's trap! With all the strength and will he had left, he turned the ship and let her fly up, away from the web of darkness! His body shook in a convulsion, making the threads cut even deeper into his flesh, but Vingilot flew up, like the ray of sun, quicker than the bats...
A cry of rage assaulted his mind like a destructive wave. Ungoliant saw the light nearing her web... she realized what he was doing! No!
Eärendil put all his will into the ship. Fly! Fly! The spider's head lowered to him. He could feel her stinking breath. Fly! One of her teeth pierced the skin on his neck. He felt her poison entering his veins – terrible burning darkness! He cried out, trying to maintain the connection. Dark flames were devouring him. The bond was slipping, melting in the fire. No! He could not hold it any longer. The light was wrenched from him by a brutal darkness. He felt a fall... No! Oh no... She will get what she wanted. And she will get Eönwë...
In a sea of burning darkness, Eärendil moaned in despair. And then all light and thought left him...
A/N: Ungoliant's humanoid form isn't mentioned anywhere in Tolkien's works, it's just a creative liberty. If you can't imagine her, look at this picture: http:/ mirachravaia. deviantart. com/gallery/#/d2bhyye (remove spaces from the url)