Tauriel stood on the wooded side of the treeline in the last area of sanctuary before the plains of Angband. The mountainous fortress towered over her though it lay leagues away. No bush or tuft of grass would shield her as she approached; the dusty brown land was completely desolate, scarred from the countless battles fought upon it.
The she-elf pressed the treasure chest with the Silmaril tighter to her bosom. She probably clutched it more tightly than Chief Aradan had when he had first carried it in the woods. He had met the elves and the Dúnedain soldiers outside of camp, holding the chest. There was still earth falling from the lid, indicating the Chief had dug it up. No one knew from where, but no one asked.
Tauriel had approached him with an expectant look in her eye, but Chief Aradan had simply nodded and ordered the Dúnedain to move out. They traveled north, and all the way Tauriel watched the Chieftain protectively cling to the box. (She couldn't help herself from looking, knowing what was contained within.)
Standing now so terrified, Tauriel tried recalling the excitement and power that had surged through her when Chief Aradan had at last relinquished the box to her. Then she shook her head. Better not to give in to the magic of the gem. Instead she pulled strength from her comrades hidden within the trees. They are there, she told herself. They'll show themselves when you move.
But she couldn't move.
She hardened her features.
She would do it. She had to.
And so she took the first step. And another. And another. As she progressed, the scraggly forest retreated behind her, yet the fortress ahead never drew any closer. Tauriel's heart pounded, and her breathing grew ragged. She focused her thoughts on the gem in the box. On the bright shining light she'd seen when it was first revealed. Light from the Valar themselves.
Oh, mighty Valar, Tauriel pleaded, hear me now. Let your blessing be on this mission. Walk with me in this unholy place. The box in her hands warmed, and bright white light poked through the cracks and seams along the walls. Tauriel sighed in relief. She'd take it as a good sign. The light grew even brighter, but that was because the surroundings had grown darker.
Tauriel was before the gates of Angband.
The fortress was carved from the mountain's dark stone. Broken spires leaned like lazy sentinels above the thick walls. Whole sections of the wall lay crumbled in a heap. The towering gates hung half off their hinges. Despite the dilapidated appearance, everything stood strong. The spires still jabbed the overcast sky, the parts of the wall intact still loomed imperiously, and the thick sturdy doors couldn't have been moved by a dozen cave trolls. Angband may have been in ruins, but it wasn't going anywhere.
Shadows moved across the crumbling wall, and Tauriel jumped, squeezing the chest tighter. Not shadows, she realized. The Uruk-hai. There were at least a dozen of the muscular beasts with their bulging white eyes fixated on her. Some peered around piles of rubble, others marched the rampart remnants, and others still climbed head first down the wall. A dry wind tossed Tauriel's hair, and she imagined the wind pulling her away from the evil place. Inhaling deeply, she grew all the more determined to face this threat.
"I've come to parlay," she croaked. Had her weak voice even traveled the distance to the wall? The she-elf cleared her throat and projected more. "I wish to speak with your leader."
"Nothing's stopping you," a voice said. She knew not from which Uruk, but she knew the raspy voice was one of theirs.
One step she took. No change from the Uruk-hai. A small shred of hope wend its way into Tauriel's heart. Calmly, she neared the crooked gates. When she came close enough to spot their dark bared fangs, they closed in. Growling, the Uruk-hai flexed their clawed hands and descended the wall in a circle around her.
Without thinking, Tauriel threw open the lid to the chest. Immediately, the front gate was flooded with pure light. The overwhelmed Uruk-hai squealed and recoiled. They hissed, and some weakly clawed at her. Or at the light, perhaps? she wondered. Under the bright light, the foreboding fortress looked weak. The walls appeared to be made of brittle dust, the gates looked thin enough to be pushed over, and even the Uruk-hai seemed smaller.
Tauriel straightened up proudly. "I need someone to show me the way." She raised an eyebrow meaningfully, as if she were scolding naughty children.
One of the shorter Uruks in front of her made a biting motion in her direction. But the other Uruks gave him a shove toward Tauriel. "This way," he wheezed and then padded away into the dark entrance of Angband.
When Tauriel followed, the Uruks in front of her moved back from the sphere of light. Tauriel glanced back to see the Uruks behind her had moved a step forward, still at the edge of the sphere. Not much leeway here, Tauriel thought regretfully. I've handled situations like this before, she reassured herself, though right then, she couldn't recall if she really had.
Nevertheless, she pressed on along the dark path. The Uruk-hai quickly scrambled out of her way to safely growl at her on the other side of the sphere. Yet, they never took their hateful eyes from her. Thus, escorted by dozens of Uruks, she passed under the crooked gates to be enveloped by the smothering darkness.
Nothing stood before her. Only an all-consuming void. But there, just beyond the rim of light, she spotted her short guide. He hissed and gestured abruptly for her to follow. She did so, but every fiber of her being urged her to whirl around and run. Everything about this place unsettled her, as if generations of evil intent had seeped into the very stones and waited to be released.
As she walked down the hall, her eyes adjusted enough to peer beyond the rim of light. The hall was surprisingly intact. True, rock piles lined the walls, and some side hallway entrance were collapsed, but the smooth stone of the main hallway was untouched.
From the side hallways, more movement. More hateful eyes. The Uruk-hai spilled out of the side entrances as if they were drawn to the light. More and more of a following her Silmaril attracted until the entire hallway behind her was a writhing mass of Dark Uruks all vying to peer at the impudent elf. Tauriel kept her eyes forward, but she could feel their growing presence behind her. They jeered. They threatened. They described how they would make her pay for her pride. Though she tried to ignore them, their words wormed their way into her heart, causing it to quake. She wondered whether her single gem would be strong enough to hold back the suffocating darkness pressing in on her sphere. Was the light lessening? She couldn't be sure.
All of a sudden, a breeze smacked her in the face, waking her from her worries. She realized she could breathe again and could discern more of her Uruk guide. The accompanying band of Uruk-hai scattered behind her, and from how their jeers echoed, she could tell they were spreading out in this huge room she had just entered.
Not a room. A courtyard. Tauriel gazed up at the gaping hole in the roof where the setting sun stained the sky red. The hole took up half the room with a couple pillars holding up the other half. Right in the center of this room stood a mighty throne at least eight elves high. The black stone was cruelly decorated with blood stains and deep claw marks especially on the arm rests. Tauriel hated to imagine the evil ruler (she dared not even think his name) occupying it.
Ironically, a new leader stood on the wide dais before the dark throne. Though the broad-shouldered Uruk stood tall and confident on the steps, he was pathetically dwarfed by the throne behind him. There was hardly anything remarkable about him at all, causing Tauriel to wonder how he distinguished himself from his subordinates. In fact, she never would've thought him the leader if her short guide hadn't knelt before him and explained why he'd let her in.
The displeased master growled at Tauriel, but she simply held her treasure chest a little higher. To her surprise, the Master never flinched, but instead shoved aside the guide and marched down the steps. "Why," he boasted mockingly, "would an elf dare to entreat with the Uruk-hai of Angband?" He shouted the last word to the crowd, prompting his followers to cheer proudly.
Paused as he was halfway down, he stood just within the sphere of light. The gem's glow fell on the diagonal gashes stretching across his chest. Stretching from either shoulder to the opposite hip. Almost, Tauriel concluded, like he did it himself. She grimaced disgustedly. Did they make him their leader just because he could withstand pain?
She didn't wait for the cheers to die down. "To offer my services," she shouted. The crowd calmed but still murmured threateningly, ready to jump on the elf at a moment's notice. She continued, "I was part of a patrol that encountered your mixed party of Uruks and Orcs traveling south. My comrades were all slaughtered." Her attentive audience trilled approvingly, and Tauriel took the moment to lick her lips, her mind racing to devise a clever lie. "I alone was kept alive. The Orcs wanted to eat me, but the Uruks wanted to kill me and keep moving ..." Tauriel shuddered dramatically. "I'd never seen a fight - a massacre escalate so quickly." Hold the pause ... she thought. "I was left with this," she said, holding up the box.
The Master squinted, but remained on his step. "What made you bring this to us?" he asked hungrily. His claws clicked as he tapped the hilt of the sword at his hip. The Silmaril's light glinted off the bone handle.
"To take this home would only bring your avenging hordes on my people." Tauriel lowered the box and set her jaw. "Instead, I offer my services as a guide through the southern lands in exchange for my people's safety."
A chuckle rippled through the crowd, but Tauriel was unfazed. She knew the Uruk-hai would never leave any elf alive, despite any promise they made. She was simply stalling as the Dúnedain found their way in. One consolation was that the thousands of Uruks filling this throne room were also not guarding the front entrance and hallways. Still, Tauriel didn't like how close the Uruks were lurking outside her sphere of light.
The Master Uruk laughed out loud, his gravelly voice echoing harshly. "Why would the mighty Uruk-hai of Angband trust a mere elf as a guide?" He stepped down, now half immersed in the light. Defensively, Tauriel raised the chest, and the light shone brighter. The Master Uruk cringed and stopped, but didn't retreat.
"I would be efficient," Tauriel hastily cajoled. "As an elf, I've roamed the southern land for centuries and know the most secret routes. I would be quick," she said, pausing, "especially when we have both the Silmarils with us."
The Master Uruk growled indignantly and unsheathed his sword. "What do you know of the other gem?"
"The Uruks spoke of it to their Orc comrades," Tauriel replied, stepping toward him, and the light strengthened. The Master roared in protest and retreated a couple steps under the intense light. "Leave no chance to failure again, my lord." Bile rose up in the back of Tauriel's throat, but she swallowed it. "Take both gems and swiftly fly at once to ... Lord Sauron."
The Master roared and sliced the air with his sword. "Those maggots will have their tongues ripped out for revealing so much!" Then he paused, realizing those soldiers were already dead. He shook his head and composed himself. "How do we know you're not leading us into a trap?"
"Do I have your word my people will be spared?" Tauriel asked. Her voice was almost as strained as her shaking shoulder muscles.
The Master grinned maliciously. "Of course," he purred.
"Then you have mine to remain loyal." Tauriel cautiously lowered the box. "No deception." She could've laughed at the hypocrisy of the statement. Instead she soaked up the courage warming her heart by the very proximity of the gem. She could do this.
The Master sheathed his weapon and barked a command to the short Uruk guide. The guide glanced sideways at Tauriel, but a roar from the Master sent him scurrying behind the throne. After several long moments, the guide reappeared with an identical chest. In between the seams, tendrils of light stretched out, dying to escape its bonds. Though the suppressed light was hardly anything compared to Tauriel's gem, the Uruks around the guide still hissed and withdrew.
When he came to stand by the Master, Tauriel knew it was time to move. Please be ready, she prayed to the Dúnedain. "How do I know you haven't placed another light in there and kept the Silmaril for yourself?" she asked impudently.
The Master snapped his jaws at her. "As if we want the torturous gems with us! We've kept them this long only because my Lord Sauron ordered it of us." Then, to the guide he ordered, "Open it."
The guide whimpered, but under the Master's stern gaze, he threw open the lid. Another sphere of light burst from the box, finally freed. The Uruks squealed and retreated from the light. Even the Master fell away. In the commotion, Tauriel leapt up the dais and punched the guide in the nose. When he grabbed his nose with both hands, Tauriel snatched the falling treasure box. Now, with a box in either hand, the she-elf ascended the steps, turned, and held the boxes high.
With the spheres of light overlapping, they created one big sphere and intensified their light. To Tauriel, the light was encouraging. The same way the evil had soaked into the stones of Angband, Tauriel could feel the pure light of the Silmarils soaking through her skin, cleansing her of any Angband influence. And Tauriel felt whole again. But to the Uruks, the light was more painful than before. Tauriel could hear their scrabbling and screeching as they clambered over each other to escape the agonizing light. She straightened up boldly.
The Master roared angrily and charged up the stairs, swinging his sword. Tauriel held out the boxes toward him, but the Uruk continued in a blind rampage. Panicked, Tauriel set down the boxes behind her and whirled out her daggers. Her blades, crossed in an X formation, blocked the blow of his crude sword. When the Uruk increased the pressure on his weapon, Tauriel stepped aside, letting his momentum carry him forward. The Master Uruk stumbled, and Tauriel hastily kicked his head down to the base of the throne. A sickening crack snapped in her ears, and the Master limply rolled over. A new web of cracks spread across the dais next to his head.
Her eyes darting around the room, Tauriel stepped in front of the boxes, ready for more attackers. To her surprise, the Uruks seemed to have forgotten about her. Beyond the sphere of light, she could make out the mob of Uruks clawing each other. Not just to get away, but also in brutal combat. Tauriel could've rolled her eyes if the situation hadn't been so dire. The Uruk-hai would find any excuse to start a fight.
Maybe this was a good thing for her. She sheathed her daggers and knelt by the boxes, all the while listening for approaching danger. Meanwhile, her eyes focused on the gems in the boxes before her. Her eyes ached in the Silmarils' direct light. She wanted to cry, for pain as well as for joy. She was so close to the light of the Valar, even here in the darkness of Angband. She reached for one gem, but then balked. Her mind recalled the tales of what happened to the unworthy possessors of the gems. How the gems had burned and scorched ...
Tauriel could feel the same possessiveness returning to her as when she'd carried the first Silmaril. And her heart sank. She thought she was over it, the greediness, the dark desires. All the adventures she'd had with the Dúnedain, and she still hadn't changed. But I have, Tauriel insisted weakly. I'm no longer that dismal elf on a scouting mission.
Yet that insecurity remained. Why don't you prove it? her inner critic challenged. Pick up the Silmaril. See if you're worthy.
A part of Tauriel wanted to know, but the other part - the more fearful part - overcame her. Instead, she grabbed the box and dumped the gem into the other treasure chest with its mate. The two gems clinked together and seemed to glow more happily because of their reunion.
Tauriel stood tall with her box and squinted past the sphere of light. Movement higher up the wall caught her attention. By the sun's fading light, she saw how the throne room wasn't shaped exactly like a dome. Its high walls fell back halfway up, forming a ridge around the entire throne room. And on this ridge, Tauriel saw a statue of Angband's dark ruler inching its way toward the edge. As the statue fell forward into space, a figure jumped onto its head. Legolas! The tension in Tauriel's chest fell away at the sight of him perched on the crowned head.
When the statue had almost landed on the fighting Uruks, Legolas leaped. While the statue crashed and crushed many Uruks, Legolas soared. He arced elegantly through the air, his body stretched in a perfect line. Then, he tucked his legs in, rolling forward. The blond elf landed in the dark masses like an autumn leaf landing among the forest mulch. Instantly, he was darting across the Uruks' heads. Most were too busy fighting themselves, but some lashed out at him, scratching his legs and feet.
Tauriel ran at him, holding up her box. Some Uruks gave way squealing and protesting, but they didn't go far. Legolas leapt off the last Uruk and stumbled into Tauriel's sphere of light. However, Tauriel worried that the light wouldn't be enough to help them. Though the Uruks remained at the edge of the sphere, they were closer than they'd been before. Seeing their leader face the painful light, Tauriel realized, makes them think they can do it, too. Legolas shot a few arrows, killing some Uruks and discouraging the others pressing in on the elves.
Tauriel guided Legolas back to the dark throne which looked somehow blacker under the light of the Silmarils. "Did the Dúnedain find a way in?" she shouted to him above the ruckus.
"They're aiding us now," Legolas replied. "They're on the ledge shooting arrows into the mob. If nothing else they can act as a diversion for us."
"But they can never clear a path for us."
From within his cloak, Legolas produced a very long rope. "We'll walk above the mob," he explained with a grim smile. "We can do it."
She started to understand. "By tying it to the throne?" Legolas nodded and moved toward the dark monument. Tauriel followed. "But how will your line remain across the chasm?"
"I've strengthened my arrow tips with metal," Legolas answered, jumping onto an arm rest. "They'll penetrate into the rock wall and hold long enough for us to cross." He tied his rope to the end of a thick arrow.
Tauriel's eyes wandered to the far side of the room. Under what was left of the roof, she spotted a column positioned directly across from the throne. A daring idea formed in her mind. "Wait!" she called out to Legolas as he was drawing back his bow. She hopped onto the seat next to him. "Shoot that way instead."
He turned to his right where she pointed behind the throne. Tauriel explained, "The columns look fragile. This one is the closest. If we shoot the arrow to the wall beside it, we can pull the throne down in that direction. If the throne doesn't hit it, the column will still fall under the vibrations." Her shining eyes met his. "We'll pull down the roof over the army." Legolas looked uneasy. Tauriel sighed impatiently. "We don't have much time to deliberate. Either we do it or-."
"But how would we get the throne to fall?" Legolas protested.
Growls sounded from below. Tauriel and Legolas whirled around to see half a dozen Uruks rushing the dark throne wielding swords and clubs. Tauriel immediately leapt down and thrust her box at them. The Silmarils brightened, driving back the Uruks. "Use the Master Uruk's sword to increase the crack. If one side of the the throne is weakened, we can push it over."
She heard Legolas land clumsily behind her, and her heart clenched. He wasn't fully healed from his trek over the masses. She should be the one doing the heavy-lifting with the throne, not he. All she'd have to do was quickly hand the box over to him. And still she hesitated. Why couldn't she give up the gems? Tauriel set her jaw. It's not like that. I'm just in the right place to do this. Behind her, she heard Legolas hacking at the stone base. Indignant, the Uruks charged at him, but Tauriel set the box down and quickly set to them with her daggers.
She rendered two unconscious and pushed a third back onto his companions. The group tumbled down the steps and lay in a heap at the bottom. Tauriel scooped up the chest and scaled the throne. "Run, Legolas!" she cried.
Legolas jumped up on the arm rest next to Tauriel. With her free hand, Tauriel helped Legolas loop the rope around the erect back of the throne. As soon as the rope was tied, Legolas launched his arrow straight and true to the far side of the room. Just as he'd predicted, the arrow embedded itself into the wall right below the ridge. Legolas leapt nimbly onto the tightrope and skittered across with Tauriel following close behind. She watched him carefully for any signs he was struggling with his injured legs. He was half a pace slower than she, but kept up well. Keeping her eyes on him helped distract her thoughts from the fighting Uruks below.
Soon, they were jumping from the rope to the ridge. Lying on his belly, Legolas untied the rope from the arrow and stood, bracing his legs. He paused, uncertainty pinching his features. "You'll have to help me," he admitted apologetically.
Smiling at his bashfulness, Tauriel set the box against the wall and stood beside him. As they grasped the rope together, their arms overlapped, and their side pressed together. The two elves shared a smile.
Suddenly, the rope lurched. The Master Uruk was speedily pulling himself across, hand over hand. Legolas and Tauriel shared a doubtful look. "We can succeed if we hurry," she insisted with more confidence than she felt. "Heave!" The two elves braced themselves and heaved. Their back muscles strained and arm muscles ached, but the throne still stood tall.
Tauriel looked down the rope and realized the Master was halfway across, so close she could see the triumph in his eyes. Far behind him, the Uruks Tauriel had fought were following their leader's example, climbing hand-over-hand along the tightrope.
The elves staggered toward the precipice. "Hold it!" Tauriel commanded Legolas. She watched as the three Uruks were reaching the halfway point, their weight dragging the rope down. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She felt Legolas's arms shake next to hers. The Master Uruk was close enough for her to make out his scars. He grinned viciously.
"Heave!" she yelled, her voice breaking. Together, the elves gave a final pull on the rope, and a mighty groan echoed through the cavernous room. All fighting and bickering ceased as the Uruks froze in fear. The dark throne creaked and moaned as if its dark spirit were being torn apart. Then, the throne tumbled backwards, seemingly in slow motion. Uruks squawked and scrambled in a blind panic to escape the towering menace. Up on the ridge, the happy elves released their hold on the rope and collapsed. Fear filled the Master Uruk's eyes, and he kicked his legs toward the ridge, launching him through the air. He desperately clawed for a hold on the cliff, but his claws grasped only air. He fell, his scream of outrage fading away.
The towering throne hit the ground with a resounding boom that grew louder and louder. The impact rolled in a wave over the stones toward the column near Tauriel and Legolas. Just as predicted, the column shuddered under the vibrations. Dust and stones dislodged from the roof, raining down on the elves. Tauriel jumped to her feet. "Hurry!" she shouted at Legolas. She snatched the box, slammed the lid shut, and ran a few paces along the ridge.
When she noticed Legolas wasn't with her, she stopped and turned. He was heaving himself to his feet, his trousers bloodstained. Because she was looking his way, she noticed before he did the clawed hands appearing on the precipice. The Master Uruk launched himself over the edge and tackled Legolas to the ground.
"No!" Tauriel wailed. The broad Uruk crouched on top of Legolas and raked his claws across the elf's chest. Legolas's cries of agony tore through the air and into Tauriel's heart. With a scream of rage ripping from her throat, Tauriel lunged at the Master. He turned his mad eyes on her and met her head on. Afterwards, she could never recall what had happened exactly. She knew they had locked in combat. She knew her daggers had slashed his face and claws. And she knew he had somehow fallen back over the cliff with her blades embedded in his chest and throat.
As soon as he vanished over the edge, Tauriel fell to her knees beside Legolas. He gasped for breath as the blood spread across his chest and stomach. "Legolas." Her voice choked, and tears blurred her vision. She felt dust and stones fall on her shoulders. The column was dislodging; they didn't have much time.
"I need you to help me," she said, draping his arm across her shoulder. His raspy breath grated across her ear, and Tauriel's heart broke to hear it. With tears streaking down her face, she hobbled with her friend toward one of the many doors lining the ridge. She noticed the Silmarils in their box tossed against the wall, and Tauriel realized she must've thrown it in her rage. "Legolas," she said, her voice strained, "lean on me if you must, but take some of your own weight." Though his eyes were closed and his head hung low, she felt him do as she asked. As she scooped up the box in one hand, she heard the column detach from the ceiling. The elves hobbled frantically through the dark entrance.
The Silmarils lit their path as they ran along the trembling hall. Tauriel heard the crashing of the throne room and imagined cracks spreading the length of the hall ... the hall itself collapsing ... She readjusted her grip on Legolas's chest which was growing warmer and wetter with every pace. Cold fear filled her chest. "We have to keep moving," she told him.
"Tauriel," he rasped.
"We have to take advantage of the distraction."
"Tauriel," he rasped again more fervently. "I need to rest." He groaned and grasped his chest.
"No," Tauriel argued, her voice breaking. "If you do, you'll never get up."
Though she tugged him on, he leaned toward the ground lower and lower until she had no choice but to set him down at the base of the wall. "You can't-," Tauriel began, but she was too choked to continue. She set aside the Silmarils, freeing her hand to hold his face. "Look at me," she ordered, her voice loud with fear. He did as she asked, but his lids were halfway closed. Fresh tears poured down Tauriel's face. As she hung her head and cried, her hand fell from his cheek to his shoulder.
"It's my fault you're like this," she wept. "It was my idea to topple the throne, to come here-." She cried into his cloak.
"Tauriel," he said. This time she looked him in the eye, and in them she saw all his love. A weak smile tugged at his lips. "I blame you for nothing," he said, then paused to draw a shaky breath. "I understood ... the risks ... in this mission ... and in loving you."
A sob escaped Tauriel. She pulled his head toward her. Their lips met, and her heart ached. She poured all her love into that kiss, and she felt his lips reach out for her though his arms could not. Never before had their bond felt stronger. Never before had they felt as one.
With a shudder, Legolas broke the kiss and leaned toward her. Tauriel rested her chin on the top of his head. Embracing his broad shoulders, she felt the moment he grew still.
She felt the moment he left her in the halls of Angband.