Fighting the dizziness that threatened to stop him in his tracks, Legolas carefully moved back into the short passageway that led to the small rock chamber. There was no way he was going to overpower both of the howlers, standing guard out in the main tunnel, without alerting the others that something was going on. If that happened, he knew he was doomed.
The only thing he could think of to do was somehow get the howler guards to come to him. He decided that to do so he would have to create enough of a commotion to attract their attention but not enough to bring in anyone else. That was now plan number two.
Legolas crouched down just inside of the opening to the rock chamber. Then he began to moan and hit the wall with the palm of his hand. The smacking sound made it appear as if he was thrashing around in great distress. He was hoping that would peek the guards’ curiosity, and they would come to investigate. The trick would be to grab them both and subdue them before they could raise an alarm.
The elf moaned again, this time dismally aware that the sound and the reason behind it were all too genuine. He had to ignore the fact the rock walls were starting to tilt and spin, and his shoulder ached with an intensity that all but made his left arm useless.
Through it all, Legolas kept his eyes on the corner of the rock wall, waiting for the howler guards to appear.
The archer heard what sounded like angry chattering out in the tunnel and realized that the guards were probably discussing, if not out right arguing, over whether or not they should go in to check on their prisoner. Clearly one was saying no, and one was saying yes. He prayed that ‘yes’ would win out.
A few more moans evidently elicited a decision, and a moment later one of the black leathery creatures came through the entrance. It looked toward where the elf should have been securely tied to the wall. There was nothing there but any empty metal ring. To Legolas’s relief, the howler took several steps inside, rounding the corner slightly rather than just turning and running out.
Legolas grabbed the creature, wrapping his entire right hand around its neck and with a twist and one strong jerk, snapped its neck. He threw the limp body behind him out of sight and waited for the other guard.
When the second howler did not appear, Legolas began to get nervous. He had not heard the creature running down the tunnel to alert its companions, but perhaps he had been too busy with the first guard to notice.
The elf let out a low curse and almost missed seeing the second howler enter the room. It looked past the elf, standing right beside to him, and stared at the body of the other howler guard sprawled on the floor, its neck at an impossible angle.
When it opened its mouth to shout an alarm, Legolas had his left side turned toward the creature and so had no choice but to grab for its mouth with his left hand. The pain in his shoulder was almost unbearable, but the left-handed maneuver accomplished its goal and stopped the howler’s imminent shout. The elf then managed to grab the thing with his right hand and break its neck, as well.
Just before the howler went limp, it reached out toward Legolas and grabbed a piece of his tunic, ripping the section that covered the elf’s wound. The holes made from the teeth marks allowed the fabric to tear easily.
Legolas saw the torn piece of tunic clutched in the howler’s hand. It was stiff with dried blood and useless to him, so he believed that retrieving it would be a waste of time. If he had only known....
Tossing this howler next to its companion, Legolas crept through the passageway to the opening into the tunnel. He leaned heavily against it, trying to clear his head. He held his left arm close to him and peered out.
There was no one to be seen in either direction. Sighing in relief, he moved swiftly, silent as a shadow, toward the tunnel entrance. When he reached it, he flattened himself against the dark area just inside. He looked back down the tunnel again and saw nothing. Turning his attention outward, he saw no sign of anything moving beyond the cave but the wind-driven snow that had become almost a solid wall of white while he had been inside.
The bitter cold that hit his face served to rouse his hazy mind somewhat, and he moved off, picking his way around and between the large boulders that hid the opening to the cave.
In only a moment, the elf was lost in the swirling snow, swallowing him as if he had never existed. As with all elves, there were no footprints to act as a guide for anyone, friend or foe, who may be looking for him.
Legolas made his way among the huge rocks slowly. As long as he stayed near them, he was able to shield himself from the worst of the intense wind. Whenever he moved out into an exposed area, he was buffeted mercilessly. The weakened elf was barely able to stay on his feet.
Elves were able to withstand the cold much better than mortals. However, bitter cold, especially when the wind was high, could affect them as adversely as anyone. And to make matters worse for Legolas, his heavy cloak had been taken from him by the howlers.
It didn’t take long for the elf to start shivering. With the piece of his tunic missing, the only thing between his wounded shoulder and the elements was his torn and bloody silk shirt. The biting cold soon numbed the aching pain and replaced it with a distant, dull ache. Legolas knew that despite the letup in the pain, it meant his flesh was starting to freeze, and that was a very bad sign.
Snow was not the only thing being carried on the wind. Snatches of howls reached the elf’s keen hearing. "They have discovered I have escaped," Legolas said aloud with dismay. "I had hoped for more time."
The wood elf knew that this mountain, snow storm or no snow storm, had been the howlers’ home for millennia. They knew exactly the route he was taking to try and get away. He couldn’t outrun them, even in the limited visibility. He had to hide.
With a new sense of urgency, Legolas began to search for a place to go where he could avoid the howlers. He refused to think about the small chance that existed for him to do so. He renewed his determination. If they caught him, it would not be because he made it easy for them. He would fight to his last breath to save his life.
Legolas looked around him. The stretch of trail where he found himself was littered with small rocks, the tallest being no more than three feet high. "Of course," the elf said, making the two words sound like a curse. "Where are the big boulders when I need them?" Not giving up, the elf continued to look for a secure place to hide.
He moved down the trail, scanning right and left. He had gone only a few yards, when he spotted a long, almost flat rock leaning against a huge section of the solid granite wall several feet from the trail to his left.
Bending down, he looked into the space created by the flat rock. There was a narrow space about eight feet long. Legolas knew he would have to squeeze in, but he believed he would fit. He didn’t have too much of a choice right now.
The far end of the space was blocked with snow and much too small for even his slender form to crawl through. His only chance was to enter this front end.
The archer pushed aside the snow that had also built up at this end of the little shelter. He turned around and lay down on his stomach and then wiggled backwards into the space, pushing with his good arm.
Once inside, he checked to make sure that his head was far enough back not to be seen by a casual glance this way and still have his feet well within the space. He hoped that the wind would soon deposit enough snow to cover the disturbance he had made.
The elf lay very still, almost afraid to breathe, as he heard the howls grow nearer to his position. He was sure the creatures knew this space existed, but he prayed to the Valar that it would not occur to them that he might try to hide here. Perhaps they would continue on down the trail in their search, believing he would be moving down the mountain as fast as he could, trying to get as far away from them as possible.
Despite his fear of discovery, the elf’s weakened and shivering body could not sustain consciousness any longer. He was already finding it hard to feel his feet.
The elf knew well the danger of succumbing to the desire to give in and just let his weary mind slip away into blessed oblivion. He might never wake up, if he did. The young prince tried so hard to remain aware. Unfortunately, under these circumstances, rational thought was the first thing to depart.
Thinking he would lay his head down on his good arm for just a few seconds, Legolas’s eyes closed, and he soon drifted off into mind-numbing oblivion.
*~*~*~*
Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir were not making as much progress as they had hoped. The swirling snow, the raging wind, the bitter cold, even the twisting trail strewn with huge boulders, all seemed to be conspiring against them.
All three of them had their cloaks wrapped tightly around them. The ranger was so miserable, he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out in these conditions.
Even the elves felt the need to protect themselves in this intensely frigid weather.
The trail twisted and turned until, rounding the base of a towering rock, the three Rivendell brothers found themselves staring at the entrance to a cave.
"Do you think those creatures have brought Legolas here?" Aragorn asked.
"It seems a logical place to bring a prisoner," Elladan replied, eying the opening and seeing only darkness beyond it.
"It also seems a good place to make a home," the younger elf added. "We have to check it out."
Aragorn nodded, feeling close to relief that they would soon be out of the elements. He drew his sword and started forward cautiously. The elven twins had likewise drawn their weapons, Elladan a sword and Elrohir his bow. They were all pretty sure that they weren’t going to rescue Legolas without a fight.
Once they had entered the darkened tunnel, they were all very unhappy to find that the ceiling was so low, they all had to bend down, making their ability to fight a lot harder to do. Swinging a sword or firing an arrow while bending over was not an optimum plan of action, but they were experienced enough to know they would have to adapt to the conditions that presented themselves.
The three moved down the tunnel in their forced crouch. Long before they reached it, they saw the same thing Legolas had - firelight flickering on the rough rock walls of a large cavern.
Aragorn and the twins entered the large cavern cautiously, relieved they were finally able to stand upright. They stood in silence and surveyed the sights that greeted them.
Whatever beauty that existed within the rock formations that surrounded the three was dulled by the stench that greeted them. Rotten flesh and offal lay strewn around the stone floor. There was no doubt that this was the home of the howlers. Any thoughts that they might prove to be benign creatures, who posed no threat, was soon dispelled.
A large pit that contained a roaring fire was on the right side of the cavern. Old bones were stacked in a huge pile, stretching all the way across the wall behind it, and these bones ranged in color from beige to brown, the older the darker.
Arranged on top of the pile were numerous skulls, representing most of the races of Middle-earth. They eerily stared at the intruders with sightless eye sockets and looked as if they had been arranged to keep a watch on all that remained of the howlers’ conquests. There were also skulls lining the base of the walls all around the large room. The gruesome scene made it clear that the howlers had made quite a number of kills.
"Now we know why no one has ever returned from Black Mountain," Aragorn commented grimly. "They are all probably right here."
"It is not Orod Moru but its occupants that have caused such a loss of life and created such a mystery about this place." Elladan said, still staring at the devastation around him. Such a loss indeed. It was impossible to even begin to guess how many people now called this horrid bone pile their final resting place.
"Look," Elrohir said, pointing to the pile of bones near the fire pit. He walked over and crouched down. "These bones here on the front edge look very fresh."
On closer inspection of the grisly sight both Aragorn and Elladan had to agree. These bones were stark white, still showed signs of moisture and even had bits of flesh and fresh blood on them. All of the larger ones had been cracked open to expose the marrow inside. The bones were all empty. Looking around, they saw that all of the bones had been thus stripped of their marrow.
Aragorn and the twins couldn't help feeling sorry for all the lives represented here. Being killed, who knew how horribly, dismembered and devoured was a dreadful thing to happen to anyone. ‘Other than an orc,' Aragorn thought grimly.
Along the wall opposite the entrance to the cavern lay a large pile of weaponry: swords, lances, axes, cudgels, knives, bows, shields and more. Most were rusty; a few were broken. It seemed that all the races that had ever reported missing travelers to Black Mountain had weapons of those races piled here.
The man turned away in dismay, and had taken only a few steps, when he spotted something on the floor. Reaching down, he picked it up. It was a piece of cloth roughly in an oval shape about eight inches long and six inches across. The fabric was a dark green suede. Despite the blood that stained the material, the partial outline of a leaf in silver thread was plainly visible.
Aragorn stared at the cloth. It had been torn from a Mirkwood tunic. Legolas's tunic. The ranger was as sure of that fact as he was of his own name.
How could a piece of Legolas's tunic end up here in this cavern? He looked toward the fire pit at the white bones they had just inspected. The truth hit the ranger with the same force that a falling tree would have.
Aragorn fell to his knees, still staring at the cloth he held between both of his hands. "No! Noooooooo!" He threw his head back and let out a howl of pain, grief and rage so wild and fierce it rent the air and echoed off of the surrounding rock walls. It sent shivers through the twins.
At first, Elladan and Elrohir did not believe it could have come from their brother. It didn't even sound human. In fact, they had turned to the cavern entrance, fully expecting to see a horde of screaming howlers charging toward them. The entrance was empty.
When they finally realized that the deep, wrenching sobs they heard were coming from Estel, they both ran to him and sank down on each side of him. By the time they had reached him, he had pressed the bloodstained cloth to his forehead and was rocking back and forth.
"Estel, what is wrong?" Elladan asked almost breathlessly. He was terrified of what might have befallen his youngest brother. The fact that Aragorn was on his knees added to his fear.
Seeing the bloody cloth, Elladan frowned. He gently took hold of it and pulled it free of his brother's hands, which were now virtually numb and offered no resistance. The elder twin's eyes went wide, as he stared at the fabric. He clearly recognized it and looked across Aragorn to Elrohir with an expression of shock and horror.
The youngest twin met his elven brother’s eyes and then turned to stare back over his shoulder toward the fire pit. Only it wasn't the fire he was looking at. When he turned back to look at Elladan, he shook his head. "By the Valar, no." In contrast to Estel's scream, Elrohir's words were whispered, though they held just as much agony. He continued shaking his head in disbelief.
Elladan’s mind was so traumatized he could barely breathe. It couldn't be true. It was too horrific a thing to even consider. This whole scene had to be an illusion, and he was desperately hoping it would soon melt away, just as a fog evaporates before the advance of bright sunshine.
Aragorn had sat back onto his heels and continued to sob, his head down, his hands now covering his face.
The twins, at the same instant, leaned their heads down and rested their foreheads against the side of their youngest brother's head. They each stretched one arm around behind Estel's back and one across the front and grasped each other, holding the human inside their strong grip.
For a long time, the three brothers stayed in that position and wept for their lost friend.
TBC