Be Aware: Concepts contained in this chapter include a semi- bleeding scene and some violence.
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Loeg Ningloron - 29 September 3018 TA
The early morning came as a promise kept. There was an awakening magic, a sense of an old earth-spirit rekindled that seeks to knit together. Before them stretched wide grasslands, the banks of the river, and clumps of trees here and there. Both had fallen again in silence and were packing their belongings to continue with their journey back to Imladris. She had slept surprisingly well, despite the bitter conversations.
Awarthrie glanced over at Legolas, who happened to pull out some Lembas bread that he was ready to share with her. She swiftly turned her back on him trying to avoid any eye contact. However, she was ignored and she cast another glance in his direction, finding him standing next to her and handing her the Lembas, and pulled away.
The she-dwarf grabbed the bread and took a small bite. At first she thought it was Cram, but soon she found it was sweet and pleasant, unlike Cram. She recalled the princely telling her, days before, that it was very nutritious, stayed fresh for months when wrapped in mallorn leaves, and was used for sustenance on long journeys. Anyhow, the seemed not to be on speaking terms after once again.
That Elven bread turned out to be a lot better than what she had expected, and she felt gaining some of her stamina and strength. Legolas packed the rest of the Lembas away and they set off. They made their way steadily now, riding northwards close to Gladden Fields. The Gladden Fields were a marshland located in the vale of the Gladden river, and on the banks of the river Anduin. It was there that the One Ring was lost by Isildur, and found again centuries later by Déagol the Stoor.
Gladden Fields did not seem to draw any nearer during the following days. Legolas had foretold her that it would be cloudy and rainy, and his evaluation were right. They rode and camp in silence with neither of them seeking each others company. They eat nothing but Waybread, and camped in the dark and cold without having any means to start a fire under the rain.
Awarthrie was used by now the way Legolas was riding Arroch, in a fast and hard pace. The horse's rhythm had changed and she ended up holding against him as tight as possible to avoid any kind of fall. Her arms remained wrapped around his waist, and she ended up resting against his back more frequently. She developed a sense how to keep the structure of her body consistent but gentle, that aided her to improve her riding skills. She also decided that the elf's back was safe and comfortable.
This was getting very interesting, the tree-Humber could remain in silence for good. He was an elf of very few words. The she-dwarf would spend hours observing him regularly and his moves were done with such unusual grace she couldn't help but gape with a certain amount of intrigue. How he was able to remain so soundlessly in front of her, she did not know.
Her thoughts drifted away. Those last conversations were the most honest and open she ever had with some pointy-eared Bastard, not to admit to anyone. She had been bound all her life, to a life she didn't choose, but somehow this new state came easier, and she rather preferred to see where it would lead. There was only the elf, the one she disliked all her life, and now here she was sharing a horse and an adventure with him. And she hated to admit it, but Lord Elrond was right, in this short quest she had slowly started learning more than she ever did in all her life.
She caught herself dwelling again on these things. None of it mattered. What had happened to her and her parents wasn't apparently Legolas fault. As it seemed it wasn't neither the Elvenking's fault. Perhaps Nastedir was somehow at fault, but again, it didn't matter. Other threats lay hidden through the rest of her life, she had to be free of the past. With these thoughts, she had figured out that she didn't hate or even dislike the beardless daft any longer. His bitter words stung and ached, her heart, but now as her rage had calmed down, she found herself unable to loathe him.
Deep down the tree-hugging-pixie had earned her trust, and now here she was trying to understand his point of view. This creature in front of her had a wisdom, that he shared with her a few times, and her thoughts strayed to her unlikely companion once again. Surprising, she found herself wanting to know more about that, about Mirkwood; the realm her mother grew and lived. Visiting the realm of the Elvenking sounded like a foolish thought, however, she wouldn't mind to learn more about it.
'A prisoner of the customs and traditions of Mirkwood.' She accused him days ago, and now she seemed inquisitive about those customs and traditions she never knew. There was something in his manner which made her understand that he weighted her words, and they had some impact on him. It was tiring, the way they spoke lately, heartbreaking nonetheless.
So it was. Legolas had crossed paths since August with the young dwarf, and she continued to curse and call him names. He took in all the insults with humor, and never dwelt around those. But her words of a few nights ago, had hit the young prince deeply. Because, as the prince of Mirkwood he was bound to old customs and traditions, beliefs he had overlooked and ignored the recent years. He was a shame to his legacy. After the battle of the five armies, he walked away from that path. Perhaps he was still known as the Prince of Mirkwood, but Thranduil, as well as him, knew he would not live according that title.
He had the Elvenking's approval, Thranduil didn't wish to keep his son bound any longer around old traditions. He almost lost his son twice, and he had accepted that he preferred to have Legolas alive and away from Mirkwood. As the King of Mirkwood he knew that Legolas had brought glory and shame to his King. But as his father, he was proud about his son. Because Legolas was a respectful ellon, who would astray only if he had grievous motives.
However, her words still brought to the elf a great discomfort. Because the dwarf had shared with him, two agonizing truths. First that Tauriel had perished and Nastedir betrayed them. He had lost two of his childhood trusted friends, and weighted heavy against his being. He had fallen into silence, grieving for Tauriel, unable to speak for a long time. Strong emotions like these could cause a great amount of harm to the elves.
It was not any different for Legolas. He was hurtful for him to find out so suddenly about Tauriel and Nastedir, worrying nonetheless. He had left Nastedir behind, trusted him to remain as the captain of the guard, and protect the king. The realization hit him deeper, could it be that Thranduil was in danger. His father couldn't be easily fooled and he should have figured by now if Nastedir would be a threat to their realm, but it still caused him uncertainties. Of course, he would neither forgive nor forget about that any time soon.
"Legolas," she suddenly called him and his name sounded foreing on her lips. He faced her turning his gaze above his shoulder as she continued, "Where are we heading?"
The elf faced away his eyes scanning the wilderness of marshes and islets filled with reeds, rushes, and vast clumps of yellow irises grown tall. He recalled in ancient times a lake had formed at their meeting-place, but by the beginning of the Third Age the lake had been replaced by the wilderness they were now facing.
"We are taking a short cut through Loeg Ningloron, although..." he brought the stallion on on a hold as he became alarmed to discover that Sauron's servants were searching the region, possibly looking for the one ring. This land was brighter once, he had read and heard the stories, but he never had seen its beauty. He was young at age, only born in the Third Age, and would never able to meet with its previous glory.
"The Gladden Fields?" she figured out struggling to find the right word to describe the forsaken place "Why this place? It's seems dangerous!"
He nodded "Located in the Vales of Anduin, at the confluence of the Anduin and Gladden rivers, this place is nothing but a memory. The enemy's forces were looking for the one ring, however no longer. This place is nothing but a memory," the words had been spoken without emotion, but Awarthie spotted there was some sadness hiding there.
His hands rested against her and he softly unlocked the grip her arms had formed around him. He leaped off Arroch and gestured her to follow. "This place had been long abandoned, but its history is important. In the First Age when the Silvan Elves first entered the Vales of Anduin, they found a lake in the deep depression where the Anduin and Gladden met. Although wider to the west, the lake probably did reach the sloping edge of Greenwood the Great. After many years the lake filled with sediment and became a marsh. However, most know it as the place where Isildur and his three oldest sons were ambushed by Orcs when they marched back towards Arnor. Isildur's sons were killed in that battle, and Isildur. Legend has it that the one Ring had slipped from Isildur's finger and was lost inside the river Gladden." He spoke, and the she-dwarf felt somewhat relieved he was willing to talk to her again.
"The one Ring?" she repeated finding the name familiar. She recalled what she had read about Sauron, and the rings he had crafted. Though, what everyone feared was the one Ring, it was one of the most powerful artifacts ever created in Middle-earth. It was crafted by the Dark Lord Sauron in the fire of Orodruin, also known as Mount Doom, during the Second Age. "The Ring of Power," she finally acknowledged.
They dwelt in the silence for a few long moments, as Legolas started carefully strolling along the riverside, being followed by the dwarf. "Loeg Ningloron it's a part of Silvan history, a part every Silvan elf should be educated. Tauriel," he came to a hold and dropped his gaze upon her "your mother, was a Silvan elf, and if you want it or not you have are half of Silvan bloodline."
The dwarf wanted to become upset at the term he had used, but found that he wasn't wrong. She was a half-elf, a half wooden-elf, they were her kind. She looked at him curious now "And you?" she seemed surprised by her own question "Are you a Silvan elf?"
"Half," he revealed in a harsh tone, but his words held no bite. "My father, and grandfather were Sindar, my mother was a Silvan elf. My grandfather Oropher was of the Sindar of Doriath, the once the greatest kingdom of the realms of the Sindar in Beleriand." His tone had changed now, he was speaking proudly, as the prince of Mirkwood would.
Awarthrie crossed her arms astounded and her lips cracked a smile as she had found some flaws on the elf bloodline. "The Elvenking bonded with a Silvan elf." she smirked walking in front of Legolas bolder than before "Then you are admitting that the prince of Mirkwood, is only a half breed!" she scoffed in enjoyment.
He sighed and shook his head as he figured out that the she-dwarf would never stop mocking him of being a half-breed himself. He wondered what made him open up to the dwarf, more than he should. His bloodline and his mother were matters, he wouldn't talk about. His eyes dropped recalling a fading image of his mother "She was a silvan-elf" he admitted, "But one of a kind, who had even bewitched the Elvenking. When she was around... Greenwood was a happier place, and it's King less ominous."
She noticed his eyes were dulled with regret and grief. It was the first time she noted him looking weary, and young, younger than his age. "What happened to her?" the words spilled before she caught herself asking. Why, she asked him this she didn't know. And why the elf answered was unsure as well.
"She fell north to Gundabad," he exposed "she had died during an ancient battle between the Elves and the Orcs, and that there was nothing to remember her by, given how there was no grave," he took a deep breath, feeling the grief rising "I do not remember much of that time, and the Elvenking never spoke about the matter. The grief is too high to ask him. As far as I know there is only a female sculpture of her, forgotten at the entrance of our realm." He concluded remorsefully.
She felt guilty of asking about his mother and having him remember memories filled with pain and mourning, because of all the people Awarthrie knew how hurtful to lose a mother was, it could drive someone only to despair. What may have been standing between them, that made them fall in silence the previous days was forgotten. She stared into his bright eyes, lit with purpose and resolve. The elf in front of her was so different from the one she used to hate and despise.
The she-dwarf suddenly stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in a tight embrace. She softly tapped his back as she wanted to take the bad memories away. His eyes went wide, and his mouth fell agape at her actions. However, he did not push her away, but leaned towards her accepting the hug that was offered by that young creature in front of him.
Awarthrie's gaze softened. She was still angry in a way of his previous words. Though, for the first time, she could clearly see Legolas. His words were honest and warm. He had finally opened up to her. There was nothing wicked or evil there. Her arms tighter and pulled him closer. Her light clasp was what he needed. She held him close. Legolas couldn't explain it, how holy it felt to be held in the arms of the half-dwarf.
They didn't know how long they hugged, but he eventually they gave up and continued walking next by the river being followed by the horse. They once more fell into silence, but it was a peaceful, silent one that wasn't awkward at all.
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And so it began, their journey to reach the Rivendell had begun, and they were still taking a small break before continuing their journey. It was time to ride again when a sudden sound was heard. And like that the she-dwarf had disappeared from his side.
She was paralyzed in shock and that sudden rush of adrenaline as she let herself fall until she hit the ground, and feel as though their life just flashed before her eyes while struggling to catch your breath. There was no wonderland at the end of a fall into a deep hole, only the tough climb back to the daylight regardless of what broke and what hurts. Breaking was fast. Recovery was slow. She remembered that as she lost her balance and fall into a deep hole.
His eyes were now open all the way, like someone was mocking him. The dwarf was once more dragging him into new dangers. He attempted to contort his body to a position where he could turn his head to see what was beneath him - or if there was anything beneath him. He could now suddenly see her. He sighed whispering a few elfish words to Arroch to wait for them nearby, and he leaped into the dark hole.
The falling in the hole was the easy part, gravity is an efficient force. Dealing with the impact, climbing back to ground level and becoming whole again that is the real challenge for the dwarf, but it wouldn't take the elf a great effort. At least he thought so as he jumped into the hall. As an elf he knew how to fall, always realizing how to land just right. Gravity was his friend because Earth was his home and it kept him so well rooted and grounded.
He was wrong!
Apparently the gap was much deeper than Legolas thought, and even if he managed to land in the dark hole without any issue, it was too far down for them to climb up. He found the unsteady dwarf and helped her to stand. She wasn't seriously wounded, just a few cuts here and there and her wrist was twisted.
"Are you hurt?" Legolas asked her as she continued his search to find a way out of the dark crack they ended up "How can you be so clumsy?"
"Nothing serious," she responded and rose and looked at him complaining that she wasn't clumsy. However, the elf ignored her trying to find a way out. He gestured her to follow him and she nodded in acknowledgment and turned to walk with him. Their dark surroundings slowly became brighter as Legolas kept hiking steadily trying to find a way out.
Suddenly there was light shone through rocks, shadowy arms stretching across the ancient ruins. What was left stood despite itself, defying gravity in its precarious way? Legolas paused, noticing now the beginning of the strange ruins, it seemed as if this place kept so many secrets forgotten through time. The ruins stood there as if conjured from the storybook of a forgotten history book.
It was perfect.
Every stone was even and square as if those who built were set to perfection as if they loved what they did. They were walls constructed to protect and to be the shelter they needed for the millennia to come. It was a perfection lost in time and darkness. None of he was aware of.
However, they only option was to keep walking through the ruins until they would find a way out of it. Legolas sped on up the stairs as she followed. Now and again, he paused and turned to make sure that she was following. The dwarf was right behind his heels. Not far from the top, a spring crossed the path, and in front of them stood an enormous entrance, the main gate of those ruins.
Legolas hesitated at first to enter; he let his hand rest against her shoulder,"Be careful," he prompted in a lower tone, "we don't know what evil might lie here."
As she followed him inside, she was hit with wonder. The vastness of the ruins struck them as an exercise in excess, the luxurious materials with which it was built as more of the same. Even in fallen in its doom, the ruins revealed its past glory. Many floors appeared utterly vacant, but it was not possible to bypass them all at once. Some corridors would lead to the uppermost floor and some of the lower parts.
There was an odd current in the Force, something he could not quite identify because when he focused on it, it seemed to recede as a mere echo. Legolas shook his head; that unfamiliar darkness was somehow troubling him. They had to hurry, and escape from that forsaken place. He cast a glance towards Awarthrie annoyed that it was her fault they were trapped in this new forsaken foreign place.
Their boots tapping against the glittering marble floor as Legolas disappeared around the corner, guiding her to darker passages. The lights were getting dimmer as they were walking deeper inside the ruins. It was like someone was waiting for them in the lower levels of the ruins, someone who had not quite the skill to completely conceal their presence.
Just as he could foresee the way, they shifted uneasily from foot to foot. Something was coming, and they knew it. And they were worried that it might be beyond their abilities to fight it. He noted an up-normally against the glassy dusty walls deeper inside the room, the crack would have appeared to others as discomforting and sinister, but it was placed there as a doorway to the darker lower parts of the Ruins. He stepped closer and let his hand touch the uneven matter. "I think this is an entrance," he revealed "and maybe our only way out". He was sure that was the passageway; he could feel all the darkly alluring behind the closed forgotten door.
"How are we going to open it?" the dwarf asked as she appeared next to him.
Legolas took his time studying the door and a few moments later he pushed against it and it opened. Blackness came with such completeness it obliterated the area around them into more resounding silence. Legolas seemed alerted like something was waiting for them in the shadows, but he could not name it. They bravely went on, steady and slow steps into the dark forgotten corridors.
"How deep are those ruins?" Awarthrie grumbled about only to feel Legolas' disapproving gaze falling against her reminded her that it was her fault that they ended up lost inside that forsaken place.
The blackness had come slowly, stealing their ability to navigate further. In that blackness, everything seemed possible; their imagination could easily create any monster, he hissed, reminding himself that the old trick wouldn't play with him.
The corridors seemed to darken, and the world around them dim and remote. They turned from the north back again to north and saw nothing in the far distance. But he felt it now. There was something there. Even as he gazed, his quick ears caught sounds in the deepest of the corridor below, on the west side. Legolas stiffened. There were voices, and among them, to his horror, he could distinguish the harsh voices of goblins familiar to him. Then suddenly, with a deep-throated call, hollows were heard, rising in a mighty shadow ahead of them.
"Be ready," he sprang down the steps and away, leaping down the path. The dwarf followed behind him; she heard the sounds, too; they terrified her being. He ran now, as the voices came louder, fierce, and shrill the yells of the unknown presents. He raced down the last corridor, and before he had reached the beginning of the previous passage, the voices died.
The silence grew around them, suffocating silence. Drawing his bow, he nudged an arrow and he cried out, "Show yourself," he crashed through the corridor and landed in the center of an open dark area. The dwarf followed him. But again, they didn't see or hear anything. "They are here; I can feel them!" the elf warned.
Legolas glimpses of shadows slowly surrounding them; it was bewildering beyond hope of remembering. Those shadows started to feel familiar; he had felt that awareness before, coming off a known source. "Stand close," said the elf; he took a pause longer than usual, "Goblings?" he whispered and the dwarf pulled her axes.
As the elf took his fighting position a strange type of fear weeded its way through his chest. One he had only come to know recently. The number of goblins was suddenly increasing and Legolas had already fired once, twice and thrice. "Their number is great, we have to be careful and launch base attacks." he advised.
Awarthrie rose an eyebrow "As always the hugging-pixie is going to take away all my fun!" she complained and rushed forward cutting through the goblins that weren't hit by Legolas arrows.
"Keep a safe distance," he cried out, looking at the dwarf worried "Focus!"
The dwarf cracked a smile, gazing at him, and then stepped further ignoring his advice. Her blades cut through goblin skin and fighting underground reminded her of home. She felt comfortable in such dark holes underground. The fight started like that with Legolas drawing his arrows and firing arrow after arrow and the dwarf striking goblin, after goblin.
Moments later Legolas skipped next to her pulling his double daggers and facing the goblins with her. He tensed, his eyes narrowing as he noticed that the number of goblins remained high. He had run out of arrows, and even if he was skillful with his blades, and the dwarf wasn't bad either, how long would they hold the defense.
"We have to retreat," his voice came low, but Awarthrie heard him "We cannot win this!"
She cast a confident glance at him, "We will be fine!" she told him as he kept the fight going.
"A plague on Dwarves and their stiff necks" Legolas uttered angrily at her stubbornness "Pull back!" he insisted.
He pressed forward from his position landing closer to the nearest group of goblins and pulled the dwarf out as she was almost ready to trap herself in between the group of goblins. Legolas stroke through it and brought the first one to its doom and then then the second. "Run!" he commanded, and this time his tone had the authority of the prince.
Strangely the she-dwarf obeyed and pulled back striking a few more times and disappearing down the stairs, while Legolas was circling now the enemy. He was trying to keep their attention against him to aid her to hide. He pursued the attack as more goblins showed on to his left. They seemed pleased to find an elf so deep down in those ruins.
It didn't take long and Awarthrie heard one of the goblins hissing "I captured the elf!"
((Next Act: 19 Enslaved))
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