Chapter 9
Dazed, Aragorn backed up a few steps from the horror that was approaching. They were coming, dozens, up from the very bowels of the earth. What could he do? It was over! Then a moan from the lips of the sweet Golden Archer roused him from his frozen panic.
“Legolas!”
Aragorn quickly ran back to the awakening Sindar and began to pull the remaining cocoon enclosure off the Elf.
“Haldir! Help me!” the Man pleaded in desperation.
Aragorn hacked at the last of the clumps as Haldir lurched almost drunkenly to his side and began to lift the limp form of the Mirkwood King out of the dripping bundle. The steam in the room made the silver strands of the flowing mane cling to the Elf’s sculpted cheekbones. Legolas’s head rocked on his shoulders as they lifted him out of the viscous trap and into the Man’s arms.
“That way, Aragorn!” yelled the Marchwarden, who was looking more awake. The Lórien’s wide frantic eyes locked onto Aragorn, as Haldir picked up a discarded sword from one of the poor victims whose fetid remains where still attached to the wall. “I’ll cover your escape! Get Legolas out of here!”
Aragorn lifted the Sindar into his arms and yelled for Haldir to follow, as the sounds of the approaching monsters grew closer. Soon they would be surrounded. What was the Marchwarden thinking? Aragorn backed up to the opening in the wall that Haldir had pointed out to him. Glancing furtively into the darkness, his torch held aloft and the Prince dangling limply in his arms, Aragorn breathed a prayer of thanks. It was free of creatures, at least for the moment.
“Haldir, come on! What are you doing? It is hopeless, come with us, now! Before it is too late!” cried Aragorn as he backed into the opening of the empty passageway. Legolas began to stir in the Man’s arms, his blue eyes fluttering open.
“It is already too late, Man. Take the King of Mirkwood out of here! Hurry, Aragorn!”
“What?…”
Haldir turned to face the emerging hordes as the black mass of writhing bodies crawled over each other in their attempts to crowd through the narrow opening. The Marchwarden raised his sword toward the on coming nightmare with a war cry.
“Haldir!” cried Aragorn again. Legolas was now awakening in the Man’s arms and began to take in the overwhelming sight of the things that now swarmed out of the opening onto the ceiling and down the walls of the steamy cavern.
“Go!” cried the Marchwarden as he turned to face the advancing menace.
“No! Haldir, don’t!” It was the Mirkwood King who now cried out in anguish. Legolas struggled in the Man’s arms to release himself and go to the Marchwarden’s aid.
But Legolas froze in Aragorn’s arms when the Marchwarden turned to face him one last time, the look on his face was of a resigned sadness. The Galadhrim bent his gaze longingly on the young Sindar, and jerked spasmodically as his body rocked with an invisible blow. Legolas gaped in horror as the Marchwarden’s chest suddenly splattered with a bright red stain of Elven blood. Haldir’s body shook again as the thing inside him tried again to burst free of it’s host. Aragorn’s arms tightened around the Wood Elf as they both stared in horror.
“Go, My Liege!” cried the Marchwarden, through now bloodied lips. He turned his back on them then and faced the creature that approached him with bared fangs. Just as the small alien finally cracked through the bars of the Elf’s rib cage, the Marchwarden flung himself at the open jaws of the adult monster. It’s teeth closed on the small head of the hideous offspring that ripped out of Haldir’s charging body.
“NO!” screamed Legolas, in a paroxysm of anguish. Aragorn held onto the sagging Elf as he mutely took in the devastating sight of the Marchwarden’s decimated body. The devil that had killed the Marchwarden now turned bloody jaws towards the two warriors.
With sudden inspiration Aragorn twirled his torch into the air and flung it with perfect aim into the pool of ammonia. The fireball erupted like a brilliant sun and filled the chamber. The creatures screamed in pain as the flames leapt into the air.
Aragorn latched onto the frozen Elf and pulled them both through the opening. The tunnel dropped at a sharp angle, Aragorn pulled the Elf on top of him as he let himself drop to the ground and pushed off the ledge. The Man and Elf slid down the slippery chute as the chamber above them rocked violently from the explosion.
They tumbled through the narrow tunnel, tongues of flame shooting into the opening behind them. The tunnel zig zagged crazily until it opened abruptly and deposited them onto the hot steamy ground in the center of another cave. Aragorn recovered first and grabbing onto the Elf, pulled Legolas over to him. His Human eyes tried to adjust to the darkness around them. A pale phosphorescence illuminated the cave dimly. Although his Human vision could not yet detect anything his hearing told him they were not alone in this dark place. A loud rumbling filled his ears.
Legolas stirred next to him and silently pointed up. There above their heads hung a huge dragon like head, crowned in towering spikes. The enormous creature was twice the size of an oliphant. Its obsidian exoskeleton glittered eerily in the glow of the rock walls. Apparently it was dormant or asleep for it seemed to take no notice of them. Steam blasted intermittently from its nostrils and its long skeletal arms sat motionlessly folded in on the black insect like body. An enormous thorax hung from the creature and draped across the chamber. Eggs dropped, wet and potent from the long organ that hung heavily from the creature’s rear. The chamber was covered in fresh Eggs.
They had landed directly in front of the gargantuan horror. Had it been awake it could have snapped them both up effortlessly. Aragorn stood noiselessly, with arms wrapped around the shaken Elf. The Man backed their way silently past the field of Eggs. The walls of this chamber glittered with their own unearthly light. They became smoother, more metallic in appearance as the pair slowly made their way out of the pungent nest. Glancing behind him, Aragorn saw that the wall furthest from the creature dropped back into what at first looked like an alcove flanked by two metal pillars. He pulled the Elf along as he made their way toward the odd aperture.
As the Man and Elf got closer, they could see it was much more. Elvish runes marked the entranceway to what looked for all the world like a royal chamber. Hand carved runes, and pictographs similar to the ones on the map, where etched into the glistening jewel encrusted pillars. As they approached the chamber, a pale light began to glow in the smooth walls and around a projection that jutted from the far wall. Odd images of warriors, stylized no doubt to evoke fear, were etched into the black walls. They stood one and a half men tall and bore enormous heads with spider faces. Clearly this chamber was Sindarin in origin, reflected the Man in amazement. Aragorn glanced at the Elf by his side but Legolas’s eyes seemed oddly remote.
Raised up on a dais sat the unmistakable sight of a grand Elvish throne. Legolas released the Man’s hand and walked towards it as if in a daze. He paused at the platform and stared at the crest and seal of the House of Thranduilion, engraved on the Sovereign’s Seat. It was almost an exact replica of the chair in his father’s palace. The pictographs on the edges of golden throne depicted the symbols of his ancestors. But this throne told the story of the Monarchy through untold millennia and of the ancient hegemony between the Elves of Mirkwood and the creatures of the Sky Rock.
Against the wall stood several lethal looking devices, an arsenal of ancient weapons. Metal spears with pronged heads, huge bows, tipped in razor sharp spikes and enormous arrowheads coated in noisome green draughts all displayed with pride. As the Elf’s hand touched the warm metal of a deadly looking projectile a strange humming seemed to fill the small chamber. The black disks, which hung from the Elf’s neck, began to glow an unearthly blue flame. Aragorn stirred in anxiety and edged close to the transfixed Archer.
“Get away from it, Legolas…” he pleaded. Behind them the huge beast rustled in her hollow, cruel skeletal fingers flexed sharply and harsh steamy breath flared from her nostrils. She was awakening. The Queen, whose task it was to challenge a lone Elf for dominance in the forests of Mirkwood, heard the ancient summons.
Aragorn glanced nervously behind him. The beast was rousing within her lair. The thick skull shook as the lower jaw dropped away to reveal a black face full of razor sharp teeth beneath her cawl. It turned slowly, surveying the chamber until its obsidian eyes rested on the two small humanoids.
“Legolas,” whispered the Man in sudden anxiety, “we’ve got to get out of here, Mellon.”
But there was no response from the transfixed Elf. The air in the small throne room was moving although the Man could not detect the source of the sudden airflow. A mixture of sweetness and ammonia assailed the Man’s nostrils as a vortex of energy gathered in the small chamber. The creature bared its heavy mandibles, exposing teeth the size of wargs in its huge head. It hissed at them in warning.
“Legolas…” began the Man, again, more frantically. Aragorn turned to the Elf and stopped in shock. The Archer had stepped onto the dais to stand before the throne, which now glowed a silvery blue color. The three black stones all floated in the air in front of the Elf, blue licks of flame snapping around them. The small chamber crackled in the sudden electrical storm of blue fire that gathered around the Seat of Power. Flashes of blue light snapped and crackled around the Elf. Dust and stones whirled in the vortex of a howling wind that began to whip at the slender Elf’s blonde hair and clothing.
Movement behind them caught the Man’s attention. Aragorn saw dark shapes moving in the corners of the stone chamber. The black forms of the drones slithered silently into the chamber around the hulking form of the Queen. She growled and hissed in consternation as the Elf moved even closer to the throne.
“Legolas! Don’t touch it!” cried the Man in sudden fear of what it would do to the Elf. The Queen now roared in fury and began to thrash against the bulk of her enormous womb, threatening to pull her skeletal form off the vast fatty bowel that churned in the ceaseless production of Eggs.
The Elf spread his hands against the vibrating metal of the throne, as if trying to absorb something into himself through the caress. In a dream like state, Legolas slowly drifted into the chair. As the slim figure of the Sindar all but disappeared within the large ancient seat a beam of blue flame shot out between the three stones that now circled the throne to form a moving triangle around his head.
The Elf’s head flung back against the runes that covered the gem encrusted seat. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his hands curled in spasms of agony. The rosy lips parted in a gasp of surprise.
Aragorn yelled in panic and dove toward the chair to grasp the swooning Elf but a force of invisible power slammed into the Man, knocking him back onto the floor. Aragorn laid on the ground, trying to recover from the shock of what felt like having been hit by a bolt of lightening.
Behind him, the beast’s screams of rage and warning brought him back to himself. Aragorn slowly raised himself up on his elbows, still fighting to recover from the jolt that had knocked him out. The wind raged around them now and the Man braced himself as he struggled to stand against the tempest.
The Queen screeched in fury and thrashed madly against the weight of her womb that immobilized her. Drones crawled in agitation around her, climbing up the walls of the chamber but none approached the carved out throne room. Blue flashes filled the transformation chamber of the Mirkwood King. Aragorn sensed that for the time being they were safe from the monsters behind the curtain of the strange lightening storm. But something was about to happen and the Man feared he was helpless to change it or stop it. Legolas was almost hidden behind a swirling vortex of blue energy.
“Legolas!”
Aragorn quickly ran back to the awakening Sindar and began to pull the remaining cocoon enclosure off the Elf.
“Haldir! Help me!” the Man pleaded in desperation.
Aragorn hacked at the last of the clumps as Haldir lurched almost drunkenly to his side and began to lift the limp form of the Mirkwood King out of the dripping bundle. The steam in the room made the silver strands of the flowing mane cling to the Elf’s sculpted cheekbones. Legolas’s head rocked on his shoulders as they lifted him out of the viscous trap and into the Man’s arms.
“That way, Aragorn!” yelled the Marchwarden, who was looking more awake. The Lórien’s wide frantic eyes locked onto Aragorn, as Haldir picked up a discarded sword from one of the poor victims whose fetid remains where still attached to the wall. “I’ll cover your escape! Get Legolas out of here!”
Aragorn lifted the Sindar into his arms and yelled for Haldir to follow, as the sounds of the approaching monsters grew closer. Soon they would be surrounded. What was the Marchwarden thinking? Aragorn backed up to the opening in the wall that Haldir had pointed out to him. Glancing furtively into the darkness, his torch held aloft and the Prince dangling limply in his arms, Aragorn breathed a prayer of thanks. It was free of creatures, at least for the moment.
“Haldir, come on! What are you doing? It is hopeless, come with us, now! Before it is too late!” cried Aragorn as he backed into the opening of the empty passageway. Legolas began to stir in the Man’s arms, his blue eyes fluttering open.
“It is already too late, Man. Take the King of Mirkwood out of here! Hurry, Aragorn!”
“What?…”
Haldir turned to face the emerging hordes as the black mass of writhing bodies crawled over each other in their attempts to crowd through the narrow opening. The Marchwarden raised his sword toward the on coming nightmare with a war cry.
“Haldir!” cried Aragorn again. Legolas was now awakening in the Man’s arms and began to take in the overwhelming sight of the things that now swarmed out of the opening onto the ceiling and down the walls of the steamy cavern.
“Go!” cried the Marchwarden as he turned to face the advancing menace.
“No! Haldir, don’t!” It was the Mirkwood King who now cried out in anguish. Legolas struggled in the Man’s arms to release himself and go to the Marchwarden’s aid.
But Legolas froze in Aragorn’s arms when the Marchwarden turned to face him one last time, the look on his face was of a resigned sadness. The Galadhrim bent his gaze longingly on the young Sindar, and jerked spasmodically as his body rocked with an invisible blow. Legolas gaped in horror as the Marchwarden’s chest suddenly splattered with a bright red stain of Elven blood. Haldir’s body shook again as the thing inside him tried again to burst free of it’s host. Aragorn’s arms tightened around the Wood Elf as they both stared in horror.
“Go, My Liege!” cried the Marchwarden, through now bloodied lips. He turned his back on them then and faced the creature that approached him with bared fangs. Just as the small alien finally cracked through the bars of the Elf’s rib cage, the Marchwarden flung himself at the open jaws of the adult monster. It’s teeth closed on the small head of the hideous offspring that ripped out of Haldir’s charging body.
“NO!” screamed Legolas, in a paroxysm of anguish. Aragorn held onto the sagging Elf as he mutely took in the devastating sight of the Marchwarden’s decimated body. The devil that had killed the Marchwarden now turned bloody jaws towards the two warriors.
With sudden inspiration Aragorn twirled his torch into the air and flung it with perfect aim into the pool of ammonia. The fireball erupted like a brilliant sun and filled the chamber. The creatures screamed in pain as the flames leapt into the air.
Aragorn latched onto the frozen Elf and pulled them both through the opening. The tunnel dropped at a sharp angle, Aragorn pulled the Elf on top of him as he let himself drop to the ground and pushed off the ledge. The Man and Elf slid down the slippery chute as the chamber above them rocked violently from the explosion.
They tumbled through the narrow tunnel, tongues of flame shooting into the opening behind them. The tunnel zig zagged crazily until it opened abruptly and deposited them onto the hot steamy ground in the center of another cave. Aragorn recovered first and grabbing onto the Elf, pulled Legolas over to him. His Human eyes tried to adjust to the darkness around them. A pale phosphorescence illuminated the cave dimly. Although his Human vision could not yet detect anything his hearing told him they were not alone in this dark place. A loud rumbling filled his ears.
Legolas stirred next to him and silently pointed up. There above their heads hung a huge dragon like head, crowned in towering spikes. The enormous creature was twice the size of an oliphant. Its obsidian exoskeleton glittered eerily in the glow of the rock walls. Apparently it was dormant or asleep for it seemed to take no notice of them. Steam blasted intermittently from its nostrils and its long skeletal arms sat motionlessly folded in on the black insect like body. An enormous thorax hung from the creature and draped across the chamber. Eggs dropped, wet and potent from the long organ that hung heavily from the creature’s rear. The chamber was covered in fresh Eggs.
They had landed directly in front of the gargantuan horror. Had it been awake it could have snapped them both up effortlessly. Aragorn stood noiselessly, with arms wrapped around the shaken Elf. The Man backed their way silently past the field of Eggs. The walls of this chamber glittered with their own unearthly light. They became smoother, more metallic in appearance as the pair slowly made their way out of the pungent nest. Glancing behind him, Aragorn saw that the wall furthest from the creature dropped back into what at first looked like an alcove flanked by two metal pillars. He pulled the Elf along as he made their way toward the odd aperture.
As the Man and Elf got closer, they could see it was much more. Elvish runes marked the entranceway to what looked for all the world like a royal chamber. Hand carved runes, and pictographs similar to the ones on the map, where etched into the glistening jewel encrusted pillars. As they approached the chamber, a pale light began to glow in the smooth walls and around a projection that jutted from the far wall. Odd images of warriors, stylized no doubt to evoke fear, were etched into the black walls. They stood one and a half men tall and bore enormous heads with spider faces. Clearly this chamber was Sindarin in origin, reflected the Man in amazement. Aragorn glanced at the Elf by his side but Legolas’s eyes seemed oddly remote.
Raised up on a dais sat the unmistakable sight of a grand Elvish throne. Legolas released the Man’s hand and walked towards it as if in a daze. He paused at the platform and stared at the crest and seal of the House of Thranduilion, engraved on the Sovereign’s Seat. It was almost an exact replica of the chair in his father’s palace. The pictographs on the edges of golden throne depicted the symbols of his ancestors. But this throne told the story of the Monarchy through untold millennia and of the ancient hegemony between the Elves of Mirkwood and the creatures of the Sky Rock.
Against the wall stood several lethal looking devices, an arsenal of ancient weapons. Metal spears with pronged heads, huge bows, tipped in razor sharp spikes and enormous arrowheads coated in noisome green draughts all displayed with pride. As the Elf’s hand touched the warm metal of a deadly looking projectile a strange humming seemed to fill the small chamber. The black disks, which hung from the Elf’s neck, began to glow an unearthly blue flame. Aragorn stirred in anxiety and edged close to the transfixed Archer.
“Get away from it, Legolas…” he pleaded. Behind them the huge beast rustled in her hollow, cruel skeletal fingers flexed sharply and harsh steamy breath flared from her nostrils. She was awakening. The Queen, whose task it was to challenge a lone Elf for dominance in the forests of Mirkwood, heard the ancient summons.
Aragorn glanced nervously behind him. The beast was rousing within her lair. The thick skull shook as the lower jaw dropped away to reveal a black face full of razor sharp teeth beneath her cawl. It turned slowly, surveying the chamber until its obsidian eyes rested on the two small humanoids.
“Legolas,” whispered the Man in sudden anxiety, “we’ve got to get out of here, Mellon.”
But there was no response from the transfixed Elf. The air in the small throne room was moving although the Man could not detect the source of the sudden airflow. A mixture of sweetness and ammonia assailed the Man’s nostrils as a vortex of energy gathered in the small chamber. The creature bared its heavy mandibles, exposing teeth the size of wargs in its huge head. It hissed at them in warning.
“Legolas…” began the Man, again, more frantically. Aragorn turned to the Elf and stopped in shock. The Archer had stepped onto the dais to stand before the throne, which now glowed a silvery blue color. The three black stones all floated in the air in front of the Elf, blue licks of flame snapping around them. The small chamber crackled in the sudden electrical storm of blue fire that gathered around the Seat of Power. Flashes of blue light snapped and crackled around the Elf. Dust and stones whirled in the vortex of a howling wind that began to whip at the slender Elf’s blonde hair and clothing.
Movement behind them caught the Man’s attention. Aragorn saw dark shapes moving in the corners of the stone chamber. The black forms of the drones slithered silently into the chamber around the hulking form of the Queen. She growled and hissed in consternation as the Elf moved even closer to the throne.
“Legolas! Don’t touch it!” cried the Man in sudden fear of what it would do to the Elf. The Queen now roared in fury and began to thrash against the bulk of her enormous womb, threatening to pull her skeletal form off the vast fatty bowel that churned in the ceaseless production of Eggs.
The Elf spread his hands against the vibrating metal of the throne, as if trying to absorb something into himself through the caress. In a dream like state, Legolas slowly drifted into the chair. As the slim figure of the Sindar all but disappeared within the large ancient seat a beam of blue flame shot out between the three stones that now circled the throne to form a moving triangle around his head.
The Elf’s head flung back against the runes that covered the gem encrusted seat. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his hands curled in spasms of agony. The rosy lips parted in a gasp of surprise.
Aragorn yelled in panic and dove toward the chair to grasp the swooning Elf but a force of invisible power slammed into the Man, knocking him back onto the floor. Aragorn laid on the ground, trying to recover from the shock of what felt like having been hit by a bolt of lightening.
Behind him, the beast’s screams of rage and warning brought him back to himself. Aragorn slowly raised himself up on his elbows, still fighting to recover from the jolt that had knocked him out. The wind raged around them now and the Man braced himself as he struggled to stand against the tempest.
The Queen screeched in fury and thrashed madly against the weight of her womb that immobilized her. Drones crawled in agitation around her, climbing up the walls of the chamber but none approached the carved out throne room. Blue flashes filled the transformation chamber of the Mirkwood King. Aragorn sensed that for the time being they were safe from the monsters behind the curtain of the strange lightening storm. But something was about to happen and the Man feared he was helpless to change it or stop it. Legolas was almost hidden behind a swirling vortex of blue energy.
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