Rating: T

Disclaimer: The characters and places belong to Professor Tolkien.

Beta reader: Cairistiona

Warning: Another chapter that's not for arachnophobics...

7. The spider

It was dark. It was so dark... Eönwë opened his eyes, but he couldn't see anything. Not even with the inner sight of an Ainu! He almost panicked. Never before had he been in such darkness. No, it was not mere darkness, he realized gravely. It was Unlight – the darkness that can swallow light like a flame of a candle can dissolve normal darkness. It was not absence of light, but something ancient and terrible, existing long before Arda came into being. This was the work of a being who did not have the Flame of Ilúvatar but another flame, dark and devouring. Instinctively Eönwë reached for his sword, but he realized he could not move. Sticky threads of a cobweb were holding him in place. He struggled against them furiously.

Sssssssssssssss...

He froze at the sound. The ancient menace in it made the hair on his neck stand up. He stayed perfectly still... don't move... don't breathe... maybe it didn't notice...

CRACK!

Rage and fury. Something breaking... The sound tore Eönwë's heart. Breaking wood. Tearing sails. Moaning spirits of white trees... Vingilot. The spider hadn't noticed him yet – it was venting its rage on the poor ship. Eönwë was glad he couldn't see it. The sounds were bad enough. In the journeys with Eärendil, he had learned to know and respect the ship as much as the Mariner, and now... he felt tears streaming down his face. Oh, when Eärendil learns about this...

And then the terrible realization struck Eönwë. Not when, but if. Where was Eärendil? There was so much pain and darkness before the bond was severed. Was he still alive?

He tried to not think about what was happening to Vingilot and began struggling with the cobwebs again – slowly, carefully trying to free his hand without making a sound. He wished he could change his form and escape from the trapped body, but the darkness bound him just like the webs and did not allow him to free himself in that way. He gritted his teeth, and instead of thinking about what he couldn't do, he concentrated on what he could. The threads were thick, and yet sharp. He felt the blood from his wrist trickling down his arm. The blood made the web less sticky... he managed to get one hand free!

A moment of silence. The spider sensed something... Eönwë froze and held his breath. A moment passed... another... And then the sound of tortured wood sounded again. Quickly Eönwë continued freeing himself from the web – with one hand free it was much easier.

Where are you, Eärendil? he thought then, desperately. If he hoped for an answer, none came. Darkness was all around. He closed his eyes – they were useless anyway – and concentrated on the darkness. It was like a solid, physical thing, stretching endlessly in every direction. But there was one place where it was just a little thinner – such a slight change that Eönwë wasn't sure if it wasan illusion. But there was no other direction for him, and so he began climbing the web, down to that place. Many times he froze, listening. Could the spider feel the vibrations of the web? But it seemed it was too occupied with the ship to pay attention to anything else. Poor Foam-flower...

As he reached for a thread, he felt something else beneath his fingers. A fabric... It was torn, and stiff in places, like with dried blood, but he would recognize its texture anywhere. It was his cloak... The gift he gave to Eärendil. Eönwë bit his lip. It meant that the Mariner was really here, but on the other side – it didn't bode well for him...

It seemed like eternity to him, but finally he climbed down, and his feet hit firm ground, although sticky with a thick layer of webs. It seemed to be a cave. Eönwë shuddered. The spider's lair... and yet the monolithic darkness was weaker there...

"Eärendil?" Eönwë whispered, hoping for an answer despite all odds.

No answer came. Eönwë took a few steps deeper into the cave, feeling like a rabbit entering the wolf's den. He drew his sword, but the familiar feeling of it in his hand didn't calm him this time. The stale, putrid smell almost made him sick. Sticky threads brushed his face as he passed them unseeing. He tried to ignore all those feelings, and the rising panic of being trapped. There was a place where darkness was thinner ahead...

He moved the sword into his left hand, and reached for the place with the other hand, tense with worry. Something wet and warm. Blood... and soft flesh under his touch. He withdrew his hand quickly, holding his fingers before his eyes as if he could see them. He could feel the blood on them, mixing with his own. "No..." he breathed out.

Then the spell broke, and he frantically reached forward again. He could feel the body hanging from the webs... the sharp threads wrapped around it tightly, cutting deep beneath the skin... His fingers trembled, when they touched the face... the familiar features... so cold...

"Eärendil! Eärendil!" In that moment, he didn't care if the spider can hear him. "I'm here, my friend... do you hear me?" He tried to find a pulse, any sign that the Mariner was alive.

A weak moan. Eönwë held his breath, not sure if his senses were not cheating him again. "Gil-Estel?" he whispered with trembling voice.

Another moan, almost sob. Eönwë embraced the man immediately, assuring him about his presence and trying to give what little warmth and comfort he could. He could feel the Mariner's fear and pain, like a terrible darkness burning in his veins. "Shhhh... I'm here..." He began cutting the bonds, careful to not cause more pain. But it seemed Eärendil was beyond caring about the pain of his wounds – the dark, devouring flames were all he could sense.

"E... Eön...wë..." the voice was weak and laced with pain, but there was a warning in it. Immediately Eönwë turned with his sword ready.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk..." he heard a female voice, low and dangerous. "Whom do we have here? Another fly? The Chieftain of Maiar even! Tassssssssty, tassssssssty..."

"Ungweliantë," Eönwë said coldly. The pieces fell into each other, and hatred surged in him for what she has done to the Trees. For what she has done to Eärendil. With a cry of rage, he charged the place from whence her voice sounded, but his sword cut only cobwebs.

"Missssssssed..." her voice sounded from somewhere above now, dark and mocking.

Eönwë jumped up, directing a mighty cleave at the place. Again he hit nothing. Cobwebs entangled him. He shrugged them off, but lost his balance as he fell back. He staggered... in that moment he felt hot breath on his neck, sharp claws scratching his shoulder...

He thrust the sword behind him. She was not there anymore...

"Hmmm... Should I kill your first? Or would you rather watch your friend die?"

Eönwë gulped, and remained perfectly still, listening. She was toying with him, making him exhaust himself... He could hear scratching of claws, hissing, from many places at once. He waited, pushing all thoughts away. The fight, the sword, his movements and his enemy – that was all that mattered now. A warrior's trance... it was hard to achieve here, in the darkness, trapped in this body. But Eönwë was the first and mightiest of warriors. The spider's steps... the mocking voice... no, it was not real! It was just a thought she forced into his mind!

The real Ungoliant stood between him and the exit from the cave, in the form of a hideous spider, a bulging belly hanging between a dome of many-jointed legs. One leg lifted, joint after joint, and moved forwards in perfect silence. Another leg... She neared slowly, while he was chasing the illusions, like a beast sneaking on the prey. Eönwë waited, not acknowledging that he had discovered her trick. Another leg lifted... slowly... slowly...

Suddenly she jumped! But just like he had before, she found herself hitting empty air. With lightning speed Eönwë avoided the sharp, poisoned teeth, and cut at her leg, severing it from her body in one mighty cleave.

She shrieked in pain and rage, and flailed with her remaining legs in a wild convulsion. Eönwë could not avoid them. One of the legs hit him in the chest, and sent him flying across the cave from the force of the impact. It knocked the sword from his hand...

Immediately she was above him, towering like a mass of darkness, pinning him to the ground with terrible force. His head spun. He could not breathe... The spider changed to a woman, but the strength of her grip didn't change. He could see her in his mind – cold, cruel eyes with four pupils looking at him mercilessly. Black lips, nearing... In her breath was the cold emptiness of the Void. He struggled against her spell, knowing the legends about a Wight's kiss devouring the victim's soul... But he couldn't move. The darkness bound him...

-oOo-

Through the veil of pain, Eärendil could hear to the sounds of the fight. He burned in a dark fire. His body. His spirit... He struggled to remain conscious. Eönwë... he led him here... he was helpless... The Silmaril... He tried to imagine its light. The darkness weighed him down so heavily. He longed for light. With all his heart, he longed for it. He heard the clang of Eönwë's sword on the floor. Terrible darkness... light! The Silmaril... He needed the light to fight... Eärendil's thoughts were muddled, but always they returned to the Silmaril. There was a memory of it, somewhere deep inside, covered by the weight of darkness. Flames... Dark flames... Terrible pain... Light... beneath it... Fight! Reach for it! He tried... reached with his mind through the darkness. No strength... he had no strength left... he had to... Flames... Eönwë! His body arched in pain, in a great, shivery scream. The light was there. It shone... shone... so... bright... so...

-oOo-

There was light. A scream of pain – and light, like a glorious tone in the middle of chaotic noise. Like a sword it cut the darkness. Ungoliant hissed in pain as it stung her eyes. She was exposed, without the cover of Unlight. The light... she hated it. She wanted it! For a moment she loosened her grip...

Like a flame of hope the light lit Eönwë's heart. He could see the woman above him, the ashen skin looking like the one of a corpse without the cover of darkness. He could see his sword... She turned for a few heartbeats, searching for the source of the light with a hungry expression. He reached for the sword... just a few more inches... he touched it with his fingertips... a little further... He had it! Without hesitation, he slashed with it. She turned in the last moment. He could see the surprise in her eyes, overcoming the eternal hunger just for an instant. Then the eyes froze, as cold in death as they were in life. Black blood streamed from her neck, where her head had been just a moment before. Shakily, he pushed her body away from him, and stood up.

The brilliant light abated, as if it had exhausted itself. But the darkness tore, too, and the shreds dissolved like the mist in the morning. Dusk remained... Eönwë could see Eärendil's silhouette in it, hanging brokenly on the threads of the cobweb, lifeless. "My friend..." he whispered, and ran to him, covering the distance between them in a few steps. He felt tears welling in his eyes. "Eärendil..."

There was no sound, no sigh that the Mariner was yet alive this time. Eönwë laid his hand over his heart. Nothing... No, that cannot be! "She is dead! Her darkness is no more! You cannot die now! Damn you, Peredhil! Stay with me!" the last words were stifled by a sob. "Stay with me... please..." Then Eönwë noticed the mark of the poisoned tooth on Eärendil's neck. "No... Oh no..." he remembered the Trees – poisoned, dying. The silver and golden leaves falling to the ground. The branches trembling, like in pain... "Not this..." Two tears fell from his eyes.

But beneath his hand... he felt something! A weak, frail flutter of a heart struggling to beat. Eönwë froze. "Gil-Estel! Oh, my friend! Hold on..." He had no time to lose now. Quickly he cut the threads holding Eärendil, but didn't remove them yet – first they must get out of this horrible place! It stank of death. He gently wrapped Eärendil in the cloak he found, and lifted him like a child. Avoiding the webs, he walked out of the cave.

A giant cobweb loomed over him, the darkness already dissipating from the threads. Bats circled in the sky, looking lost and without purpose. The ground around was barren and covered with bones – bats, mostly, but also other animals... and Elves... How many did she devour in her insatiable hunger? Eönwë looked up. There was Vingilot. The once proud ship was now just a heap of rubble hanging like a fly in the cobweb, pieces of mithril and white wood, torn sails. He could see the swan's head. The eyes were turned to him, and to Eönwë it seemed as if he saw tears in them. He was glad Eärendil couldn't see it. But he would feel it, if he awakened... no! When he awakened! Eönwë looked at the broken ship one last time. The darkness dissolved, and stars shone in the sky.

Eönwë carried Eärendil further away, and stopped when he saw the first patch of grass. He felt a great weight lifting from him then, and breathing was easier. There he laid his friend on the grass. It seemed Eärendil was also a little better away from that place, although his face was still deathly pale. Worried, Eönwë followed the black veins spreading from the wound on his neck. He couldn't do anything against the poison. He wished he at least had water to wash his wounds and moisten his lips. But he had only his sword and clothes. Quickly he tore his shirt to bandages, and carefully began unwinding the threads cutting into Eärendil's skin. He bandaged every wound immediately, but still he had to wonder how much blood the Mariner already lost. He found himself talking to his friend about everything he had to do, although Eärendil couldn't hear him – just like when repairing the ship with Elwing, he realized. He wondered where she is, and if she managed to escape...

Eärendil moaned. Immediately Eönwë leaned over him, forgetting everything else. "Eärendil?"

The Mariner opened his eyes, but it seemed he didn't see Eönwë. His face contorted in pain. "So dark... It...burns..." he whispered almost inaudibly.

Eönwë took his hand. "Shhhh... I know... It will be good again. You will see, everything will be good again. I promise..." Yes. He promised. He knew there was little hope, but still he promised. And he knew he would try to fulfil that promise with all his might. He didn't know if Eärendil could even hear him – his eyes closed, and it seemed he lost consciousness again. Eönwë wrapped him in the tattered cloak – still it was warm and soft, and he knew it was dear to Eärendil. The cloak can be repaired... but what about its owner? He sighed, and took Eärendil into his embrace.

Thus the first rays of dawn found them.