Chapter 11
Elrond took his daughter’s hand in his own and rubbed it to restore some warmth to the frozen fingers. Gandalf placed his hand on her forehead, where she stood, and closed his eyes as he whispered words of healing.
His eyes slowly opened and he looked at Elrond sadly, “It’s no use. I can’t reach her. She has gone in too deeply.”
“Gandalf,” said the Elven Lord in a subdued voice, “I know my daughter will defeat this madness and come back to us. I know she will do the right thing.”
The sage Wizard regarded his old friend with kindness but it was evident he did not feel as confident as the Queen’s father. He walked around the She-Elf, who stood, with glazed eyes frozen on some distant internal view, and laid a strong hand on the Elrond’s shoulder.
“I pray that you are right, my friend. It appears we have no choice now. But I doubt, even if she can communicate with the thing, that ‘reason’ can be possible with the brute beasts seen here today.”
He turned and looked dubiously into the blank blue stare of the Queen. Deep within the glassy eyes a battle raged, but not of the type anyone there might have guessed.
{I weep. I weep. I have lost my children to the darkness} cried the Queen.
{I understand your pain. It rages and burns inside your soul. It tears at your flesh with sharp teeth.} said the Other. Also a Queen and a bereaved Mother.
{No one can know my pain…my lover is lost to me.}
{Child of Darkness, he was never yours.}
She raged and cried in the quiet of her soul. And the voice of She who understood her best called out to her again: {Arwen, come to me.}
{Will you help, then?}
{To make war? To regain your lover? Dare you think the Queen of All is here as your puppet little She-Elf?}
The voice hissed in eerie imitation of human laughter.
{There is only one Hunter here and those to be hunted! Come, Arwen, come to me. We are of one soul now. Come and feast on the flesh of your enemies.}
In the darkness of the tunnel where Elves and Men labored to walk, the Queen of Gondor smiled. Finally, she was not alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Within the blistering heat of the cavern, Aragorn followed the Elf King. The weapons they carried reflected a pale blue light that illuminated the walls and the rocky floor and ceiling. The winding labyrinth opened into various subterranean cellars, each seemingly hotter than the last. Aragorn recalled that long ago Mirkwood had an active volcano in the depths of the mountain.
The strange being that walked ahead of him ignored the blasts of steam that intermittently came out of crevices in the ground beneath them. He seemed to be listening to something only he could hear and walked on in confidence, not even glancing into the many potential hiding places around them that could have sheltered the monstrous thing. Aragorn trotted after him, eyes darting this way and that, peering into the darkness nervously.
What were they doing? Even armed with…with Valar knows what these things were, what could they really hope to accomplish against this enormous monstrosity? Of course, the transformed Elf seemed confident of his ability to hunt and kill the creature. Lethal and beautiful as this Primitive Elf Lord might be, Aragorn had his doubts about a face off between his lover and that gargantuan terror. Any attempts to convey his concerns, however, had fallen on sensuously pointed, but decidedly deaf, ears.
The Man’s presence had been, hither to, completely ignored. In fact, the Man was not even sure Legolas was even aware of him. All attempts to speak to the Elf were met with silence. The one time Aragorn attempted to stand in the Archer’s way, to slow him down, was met with a sharp blow to his midsection that landed him on the rocky ground.
“This is insanity!” whispered the Man again, under his breath. Not surprisingly, his comment received no response from the Hunter. Aragorn followed closely behind the Archer, furious at the being’s refusal to acknowledge him and concerned that his Elf was so under the alien spell that Aragorn might not be able to keep him from getting killed.
He was not prepared for the sudden stop in the Archer’s stride and he managed to run into the fey being before him. For one moment, the Elf seemed to linger in the unexpected circle of the Man’s arms, their faces only an inch apart in the darkness.
“Legolas?” tried the Man, unable to ignore the sudden intoxication that threatened to overload his senses, from holding this primeval creature in his embrace.
But there was no reaction in the lovely eyes, which shone behind the exotic mask. Then the Elf pushed him off and bent low to examine the ground. Aragorn leaned over his shoulder, trying to see in the darkness what had captured the Archer’s attention. The Man could not help but stare at the magnificent golden head, decorated in the wide halo of feathers and glistening mithril crown. The hauntingly beautiful face was devoid of emotion. Yet the cobalt orbs sizzled behind the golden camouflage, as the Elf examined the telltale signs of the Queen’s silent passage.
Unable to see what was of interest, Aragorn let his gaze linger down the naked form of the slender Elf. In the eerie blue light, the animal patterns continued to change configuration over his pale skin. Snake-like markings skated down the sinuous curve of the spine, and scored out to the slender waist and around the firm roundness of the buttocks. The unusual stripes wrapped around the muscled arms and accentuated the thigh muscles of the strong legs. Aragorn almost forgot to breathe as he drank in the exotic beauty.
Such an exquisite creature could have been a dancer in the Temple of the old fertility Gods of the North, worshiped by the tribes of Wild Men that inhabited those regions, or a delicate courtesan, brought out of the mysterious lands from across the sea, where such rarity of form was greatly sought after for the King’s harem.
Had he been sure this was his Legolas, Aragorn would have let his hand drift to stroke the supple line of the long neck under the heavy mantel of golden plaits. He could well imagine his fingers tracing the curve of that graceful neck, and follow it to the line of the jaw and then to trace the full lips. Lips that begged to be kissed…. But this Warrior was an uncertainty, one who might ignore the annoying Man or simply hack off the offending hand for the impudence of such a daring touch.
The thought made Aragorn pull back from leaning too closely over the intent tracker. “What is it?” he asked, after a brief struggle to find his voice.
Without warning, the Elf sprinted from his crouched position and disappeared down a long winding tunnel. Cursing viciously under his breath, Aragorn bolted after the Hunter. He came to a fork in the tunnel, each path disappearing into twin black holes. He halted, panting, and experiencing a feeling of déjà vu, when screams drew him down one of the two openings. It widened into a large cavern that glowed red from a crack in the floor that bubbled with molten red lava. The screams came from a shadowed corner of the cavern that broke up into a network of ledges up the side of the stone wall.
“Legolas!” the Man yelled in fright, unable to see his Elf amidst the flashes of sizzling discharges. The scream came again, loud and unearthly.
His eyes searched up the wall and found the source. It was the alien. Her hulking black form was wedged upon a rocky outcropping in the wall. She was backing up a long ledge that jutted out, as if under a bridge, from the projection above. Amazingly, the Elf was crawling across the slender stone bridge to position himself above the viciously growling behemoth.
Aragorn gaped in stunned disbelief. The creature aimed her barbed pointed tail like a sword and thrust it at the Elf. Aragorn screamed. The lissome form of the Elf back flipped out of its way in a sinuous move that seemed to defy gravity. His long lance stayed centered at his waist as he vaulted into the air. He landed easily back on the stone bridge and twirled the lance that now spat fire from its point.
His dance upon the bridge confused the raging creature and she edged her hulking form further back. The Elf twirled the staff dizzyingly and then took sudden aim, discharging another blue line of electricity at the creature. It erupted against her towering head and exploded into fireworks. The thing roared and slammed her own head into the rock to put out the burning flame that enveloped her elongated skull.
The alien rammed her dragon like tail in fury, into the stone projection, in an effort to bring down the whole ledge and topple the slender being to the waiting cauldron of bubbling lava below them. The Elf balanced easily against the swaying rock projection that began to move under his feet. Single-mindedly he edged even further out, taking aim again at the gargantuan alien Queen. She bared her massive jaws at the diminutive being and lashed at him with her long tail, This time it hit him, a barb embedding into the flesh of his upper arm, and another in his chest. The Elf howled in pain and dropped the metal lance from his suddenly weakened grasp. Her tail slammed into the wall above him, raining down rocks of various sizes onto the Archer’s ledge. The injured Elf fell to his knees.
She snarled at him and took aim again. Her attack was thwarted however by a sudden explosion of blue flame at her feet. She roared and tittered back on her ledge, withdrawing even further into the stone crevice. The Man roared in defiance, from where he stood beneath her. The thing growled at the Human interloper in annoyance. Aragorn fiddled with the heavy metal weapon that had successfully discharged a tongue of blue flame at the monster. Stubbornly, it refused to work for him a second time. He flung it over his back and backed frantically away from the injured Creature.
Aragorn glanced up at the crumbling stone bridge. The Elf had fallen onto the rock platform and was having trouble standing. His arm and chest were bleeding profusely and Aragorn could see that the Elf was almost near to passing out as rocks continued to rain down on him from above.
Aragorn leapt onto the rock wall and began to climb up to the Elf. It was not an easy task for him, and he grunted with the effort, his bloody hands leaving a trail of red upon the sharp rocks. The creature roared from her hiding place, and seeing the advantage open before her, she crawled out and looked up at the prone Elf. With a look of unmistakable intelligence, the insectoid thing glanced at the frantically climbing Human, opposite her, and began her own assent up the rock wall towards the fallen Archer.
It was a race now. Aragorn climbed as fast as he could, realizing the Queen was making for the same goal. The Elf’s golden form lay unmoving on the stone bridge. She was closer and considerably more agile, considering her hulking form. But her enormous weight threatened to bring down parts of the stone that would have offered a more direct route.
Aragorn hefted himself up over a tight projection that would bring him level to the Elf. He glanced down at the lava and began to climb out onto the bridge where the Elf now lay. He paused and looked across at the alien. She was almost to the same level as the Archer.
Aragorn pulled his weapon off his back and aimed the mysterious lance at the black form of the Queen. He glanced down at the unfamiliar device and prayed he’d work the thing right. There were numerous toggles and switches on a small control panel by his fingers. He took aim and held his breath. He pushed something and bam! Unexpectedly, not electricity but a blast of wind funneled out of the device. It almost flew from his grip as the massive energy wave hit the creature and toppled her from her stony ledge.
Long black fingers snaked around rock and the enormous creature hung suspended over the lava pit below. The whipping wind also dislodged rocks and stones that rained down on the thing. But still it clutched onto the rock face. The torrent of wind flew debris over the bridge at the Man and the prone Elf as well. Aragorn started to move toward the Archer while still aiming at the Alien Queen.
The funnel of energy slowly died off. Aragorn clicked the switch again several times, giving the device a frustrated shake, but nothing more happened. He flung it over his back and ran out onto the ledge where the unconscious Elf lay. Meanwhile the stunned Creature lumbered onto another projection. Aragorn realized he didn’t have much time.
The Elf stirred as the Man reached him and gently lifted the Archer over a shoulder. Aragorn ran back as the stone bridge continued to crumble under his feet. Large chunks started to fall off the bridge until the massive stone itself disintegrated and rained down into the lava below. Aragon leapt off the crumbling platform and landed on another ledge. With the Archer still slung over his shoulder, he climbed higher until a crevice in the stone wall opened to yet another tunnel. A glance back told him the Queen had disappeared into another opening in the wall. She could be anywhere in the extensive catacombs, either hiding or laying a trap.
Unwilling to stay in this vulnerable spot any longer, Aragorn stepped through the opening and into another narrow corridor. Hoping it did not come to a dead end, he wedged his way inside and pulled the alien contraption around to light his way. The tunnel seemed to wind forward but he paused to put the Elf down and check on his wounds.
Aragorn ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt and bound the Elf’s chest tightly to stop the bleeding. He did the same with the other slash on the arm. Slowly the Elf’s eyes fluttered open from beneath the golden mask. He looked up at Aragorn, surprise evident in the glowing sapphire orbs.
“It’s alright,” Aragorn whispered gently, “You were injured and the thing got away but not before you inflicted some damage of your own.” He smiled at the Elf Warrior who stared back at him mutely. The Archer tried to stand, shakily, but Aragorn’s hand restrained him.
“You are not ready, Meleth Nin. Rest for a moment.”
Impatiently the Archer pushed the Man’s hand away and was on his feet. Glancing around him, he turned to glare at Aragorn. “Give me your weapon.”
Aragorn stared back at him in disbelief. “Is that how its done where you’re from? ‘Give me your weapon,’ and not so much as a thank you for saving your life!”
Before the Human could say more, the small hinged knife, which hung at his waist, was in the Archer’s hand. A flick of the wrist snapped the three prongs into a lethal circular blade that was pressed against the Man’s throat. Aragorn was shoved roughly to the wall. Legolas glared at him with eyes of molten blue flame.
“This is no game. If she does not die by my hand, all of the Green Wood will perish.”
Aragorn mutely handed over the device, as the blade was pressed for emphasis against his skin. He watched the Elf examine the device, make some adjustments to the instrument and then head off down the long tunnel. The Man followed him closely, intent now not to lose the Archer who held their only source of light, save for the gentle glow of the Elf’s very skin.
The Elf stopped as the tunnel branched again and placed a hand to the slick covered wall. He closed his eyes as if listening intently, head cocked curiously to one side. His eyes popped open and he turned, surprisingly, to look at the Man who stood closely at his side.
Aragorn held his breath. Until now, this Primitive Elf King had not acknowledged him at all save for the demand for his weapon. Now the inscrutable blue eyes of his beloved looked at him with the puzzlement of a stranger.
“What is it?” Aragorn finally asked.
“I cannot hear her clearly.”
“Hear her?” asked Aragorn, confused.
“I cannot hear her thoughts. There is another who is present. It is her thoughts I hear.”
“Thoughts?” asked the Man, stunned. “You mean you can …read that …thing’s …thoughts?” Aragorn shook his head, bewildered.
Besides the stunning news that his Elf was able to telepathically hear the alien’s thoughts was the surprising concept that the monster was even capable of thought. He had believed it to be nothing more than an animal. And then there was something else in what the Archer had revealed.
“What do you mean, ‘there is another present’?” asked the Man.
“It is your Queen’s thoughts I hear.” There was an odd note to this statement. It was not the neutral placid tones that Aragorn had come to expect from this Elf King.
Aragorn shook his head, “Arwen? Here?”
Aragorn swallowed, unsure what this all meant, and feeling a rush of guilt come over him at the thought of Arwen. He looked deeply at the alien expression in his beloved’s blue eyes, searching for some reflection of his Legolas. Searching for the pain he knew was there. The blue eyes blinked at him. When the Archer spoke again, it was in Legolas’s voice. Aragorn knew, for it was laced in sadness.
“She wants us both dead.”
His eyes slowly opened and he looked at Elrond sadly, “It’s no use. I can’t reach her. She has gone in too deeply.”
“Gandalf,” said the Elven Lord in a subdued voice, “I know my daughter will defeat this madness and come back to us. I know she will do the right thing.”
The sage Wizard regarded his old friend with kindness but it was evident he did not feel as confident as the Queen’s father. He walked around the She-Elf, who stood, with glazed eyes frozen on some distant internal view, and laid a strong hand on the Elrond’s shoulder.
“I pray that you are right, my friend. It appears we have no choice now. But I doubt, even if she can communicate with the thing, that ‘reason’ can be possible with the brute beasts seen here today.”
He turned and looked dubiously into the blank blue stare of the Queen. Deep within the glassy eyes a battle raged, but not of the type anyone there might have guessed.
{I weep. I weep. I have lost my children to the darkness} cried the Queen.
{I understand your pain. It rages and burns inside your soul. It tears at your flesh with sharp teeth.} said the Other. Also a Queen and a bereaved Mother.
{No one can know my pain…my lover is lost to me.}
{Child of Darkness, he was never yours.}
She raged and cried in the quiet of her soul. And the voice of She who understood her best called out to her again: {Arwen, come to me.}
{Will you help, then?}
{To make war? To regain your lover? Dare you think the Queen of All is here as your puppet little She-Elf?}
The voice hissed in eerie imitation of human laughter.
{There is only one Hunter here and those to be hunted! Come, Arwen, come to me. We are of one soul now. Come and feast on the flesh of your enemies.}
In the darkness of the tunnel where Elves and Men labored to walk, the Queen of Gondor smiled. Finally, she was not alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Within the blistering heat of the cavern, Aragorn followed the Elf King. The weapons they carried reflected a pale blue light that illuminated the walls and the rocky floor and ceiling. The winding labyrinth opened into various subterranean cellars, each seemingly hotter than the last. Aragorn recalled that long ago Mirkwood had an active volcano in the depths of the mountain.
The strange being that walked ahead of him ignored the blasts of steam that intermittently came out of crevices in the ground beneath them. He seemed to be listening to something only he could hear and walked on in confidence, not even glancing into the many potential hiding places around them that could have sheltered the monstrous thing. Aragorn trotted after him, eyes darting this way and that, peering into the darkness nervously.
What were they doing? Even armed with…with Valar knows what these things were, what could they really hope to accomplish against this enormous monstrosity? Of course, the transformed Elf seemed confident of his ability to hunt and kill the creature. Lethal and beautiful as this Primitive Elf Lord might be, Aragorn had his doubts about a face off between his lover and that gargantuan terror. Any attempts to convey his concerns, however, had fallen on sensuously pointed, but decidedly deaf, ears.
The Man’s presence had been, hither to, completely ignored. In fact, the Man was not even sure Legolas was even aware of him. All attempts to speak to the Elf were met with silence. The one time Aragorn attempted to stand in the Archer’s way, to slow him down, was met with a sharp blow to his midsection that landed him on the rocky ground.
“This is insanity!” whispered the Man again, under his breath. Not surprisingly, his comment received no response from the Hunter. Aragorn followed closely behind the Archer, furious at the being’s refusal to acknowledge him and concerned that his Elf was so under the alien spell that Aragorn might not be able to keep him from getting killed.
He was not prepared for the sudden stop in the Archer’s stride and he managed to run into the fey being before him. For one moment, the Elf seemed to linger in the unexpected circle of the Man’s arms, their faces only an inch apart in the darkness.
“Legolas?” tried the Man, unable to ignore the sudden intoxication that threatened to overload his senses, from holding this primeval creature in his embrace.
But there was no reaction in the lovely eyes, which shone behind the exotic mask. Then the Elf pushed him off and bent low to examine the ground. Aragorn leaned over his shoulder, trying to see in the darkness what had captured the Archer’s attention. The Man could not help but stare at the magnificent golden head, decorated in the wide halo of feathers and glistening mithril crown. The hauntingly beautiful face was devoid of emotion. Yet the cobalt orbs sizzled behind the golden camouflage, as the Elf examined the telltale signs of the Queen’s silent passage.
Unable to see what was of interest, Aragorn let his gaze linger down the naked form of the slender Elf. In the eerie blue light, the animal patterns continued to change configuration over his pale skin. Snake-like markings skated down the sinuous curve of the spine, and scored out to the slender waist and around the firm roundness of the buttocks. The unusual stripes wrapped around the muscled arms and accentuated the thigh muscles of the strong legs. Aragorn almost forgot to breathe as he drank in the exotic beauty.
Such an exquisite creature could have been a dancer in the Temple of the old fertility Gods of the North, worshiped by the tribes of Wild Men that inhabited those regions, or a delicate courtesan, brought out of the mysterious lands from across the sea, where such rarity of form was greatly sought after for the King’s harem.
Had he been sure this was his Legolas, Aragorn would have let his hand drift to stroke the supple line of the long neck under the heavy mantel of golden plaits. He could well imagine his fingers tracing the curve of that graceful neck, and follow it to the line of the jaw and then to trace the full lips. Lips that begged to be kissed…. But this Warrior was an uncertainty, one who might ignore the annoying Man or simply hack off the offending hand for the impudence of such a daring touch.
The thought made Aragorn pull back from leaning too closely over the intent tracker. “What is it?” he asked, after a brief struggle to find his voice.
Without warning, the Elf sprinted from his crouched position and disappeared down a long winding tunnel. Cursing viciously under his breath, Aragorn bolted after the Hunter. He came to a fork in the tunnel, each path disappearing into twin black holes. He halted, panting, and experiencing a feeling of déjà vu, when screams drew him down one of the two openings. It widened into a large cavern that glowed red from a crack in the floor that bubbled with molten red lava. The screams came from a shadowed corner of the cavern that broke up into a network of ledges up the side of the stone wall.
“Legolas!” the Man yelled in fright, unable to see his Elf amidst the flashes of sizzling discharges. The scream came again, loud and unearthly.
His eyes searched up the wall and found the source. It was the alien. Her hulking black form was wedged upon a rocky outcropping in the wall. She was backing up a long ledge that jutted out, as if under a bridge, from the projection above. Amazingly, the Elf was crawling across the slender stone bridge to position himself above the viciously growling behemoth.
Aragorn gaped in stunned disbelief. The creature aimed her barbed pointed tail like a sword and thrust it at the Elf. Aragorn screamed. The lissome form of the Elf back flipped out of its way in a sinuous move that seemed to defy gravity. His long lance stayed centered at his waist as he vaulted into the air. He landed easily back on the stone bridge and twirled the lance that now spat fire from its point.
His dance upon the bridge confused the raging creature and she edged her hulking form further back. The Elf twirled the staff dizzyingly and then took sudden aim, discharging another blue line of electricity at the creature. It erupted against her towering head and exploded into fireworks. The thing roared and slammed her own head into the rock to put out the burning flame that enveloped her elongated skull.
The alien rammed her dragon like tail in fury, into the stone projection, in an effort to bring down the whole ledge and topple the slender being to the waiting cauldron of bubbling lava below them. The Elf balanced easily against the swaying rock projection that began to move under his feet. Single-mindedly he edged even further out, taking aim again at the gargantuan alien Queen. She bared her massive jaws at the diminutive being and lashed at him with her long tail, This time it hit him, a barb embedding into the flesh of his upper arm, and another in his chest. The Elf howled in pain and dropped the metal lance from his suddenly weakened grasp. Her tail slammed into the wall above him, raining down rocks of various sizes onto the Archer’s ledge. The injured Elf fell to his knees.
She snarled at him and took aim again. Her attack was thwarted however by a sudden explosion of blue flame at her feet. She roared and tittered back on her ledge, withdrawing even further into the stone crevice. The Man roared in defiance, from where he stood beneath her. The thing growled at the Human interloper in annoyance. Aragorn fiddled with the heavy metal weapon that had successfully discharged a tongue of blue flame at the monster. Stubbornly, it refused to work for him a second time. He flung it over his back and backed frantically away from the injured Creature.
Aragorn glanced up at the crumbling stone bridge. The Elf had fallen onto the rock platform and was having trouble standing. His arm and chest were bleeding profusely and Aragorn could see that the Elf was almost near to passing out as rocks continued to rain down on him from above.
Aragorn leapt onto the rock wall and began to climb up to the Elf. It was not an easy task for him, and he grunted with the effort, his bloody hands leaving a trail of red upon the sharp rocks. The creature roared from her hiding place, and seeing the advantage open before her, she crawled out and looked up at the prone Elf. With a look of unmistakable intelligence, the insectoid thing glanced at the frantically climbing Human, opposite her, and began her own assent up the rock wall towards the fallen Archer.
It was a race now. Aragorn climbed as fast as he could, realizing the Queen was making for the same goal. The Elf’s golden form lay unmoving on the stone bridge. She was closer and considerably more agile, considering her hulking form. But her enormous weight threatened to bring down parts of the stone that would have offered a more direct route.
Aragorn hefted himself up over a tight projection that would bring him level to the Elf. He glanced down at the lava and began to climb out onto the bridge where the Elf now lay. He paused and looked across at the alien. She was almost to the same level as the Archer.
Aragorn pulled his weapon off his back and aimed the mysterious lance at the black form of the Queen. He glanced down at the unfamiliar device and prayed he’d work the thing right. There were numerous toggles and switches on a small control panel by his fingers. He took aim and held his breath. He pushed something and bam! Unexpectedly, not electricity but a blast of wind funneled out of the device. It almost flew from his grip as the massive energy wave hit the creature and toppled her from her stony ledge.
Long black fingers snaked around rock and the enormous creature hung suspended over the lava pit below. The whipping wind also dislodged rocks and stones that rained down on the thing. But still it clutched onto the rock face. The torrent of wind flew debris over the bridge at the Man and the prone Elf as well. Aragorn started to move toward the Archer while still aiming at the Alien Queen.
The funnel of energy slowly died off. Aragorn clicked the switch again several times, giving the device a frustrated shake, but nothing more happened. He flung it over his back and ran out onto the ledge where the unconscious Elf lay. Meanwhile the stunned Creature lumbered onto another projection. Aragorn realized he didn’t have much time.
The Elf stirred as the Man reached him and gently lifted the Archer over a shoulder. Aragorn ran back as the stone bridge continued to crumble under his feet. Large chunks started to fall off the bridge until the massive stone itself disintegrated and rained down into the lava below. Aragon leapt off the crumbling platform and landed on another ledge. With the Archer still slung over his shoulder, he climbed higher until a crevice in the stone wall opened to yet another tunnel. A glance back told him the Queen had disappeared into another opening in the wall. She could be anywhere in the extensive catacombs, either hiding or laying a trap.
Unwilling to stay in this vulnerable spot any longer, Aragorn stepped through the opening and into another narrow corridor. Hoping it did not come to a dead end, he wedged his way inside and pulled the alien contraption around to light his way. The tunnel seemed to wind forward but he paused to put the Elf down and check on his wounds.
Aragorn ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt and bound the Elf’s chest tightly to stop the bleeding. He did the same with the other slash on the arm. Slowly the Elf’s eyes fluttered open from beneath the golden mask. He looked up at Aragorn, surprise evident in the glowing sapphire orbs.
“It’s alright,” Aragorn whispered gently, “You were injured and the thing got away but not before you inflicted some damage of your own.” He smiled at the Elf Warrior who stared back at him mutely. The Archer tried to stand, shakily, but Aragorn’s hand restrained him.
“You are not ready, Meleth Nin. Rest for a moment.”
Impatiently the Archer pushed the Man’s hand away and was on his feet. Glancing around him, he turned to glare at Aragorn. “Give me your weapon.”
Aragorn stared back at him in disbelief. “Is that how its done where you’re from? ‘Give me your weapon,’ and not so much as a thank you for saving your life!”
Before the Human could say more, the small hinged knife, which hung at his waist, was in the Archer’s hand. A flick of the wrist snapped the three prongs into a lethal circular blade that was pressed against the Man’s throat. Aragorn was shoved roughly to the wall. Legolas glared at him with eyes of molten blue flame.
“This is no game. If she does not die by my hand, all of the Green Wood will perish.”
Aragorn mutely handed over the device, as the blade was pressed for emphasis against his skin. He watched the Elf examine the device, make some adjustments to the instrument and then head off down the long tunnel. The Man followed him closely, intent now not to lose the Archer who held their only source of light, save for the gentle glow of the Elf’s very skin.
The Elf stopped as the tunnel branched again and placed a hand to the slick covered wall. He closed his eyes as if listening intently, head cocked curiously to one side. His eyes popped open and he turned, surprisingly, to look at the Man who stood closely at his side.
Aragorn held his breath. Until now, this Primitive Elf King had not acknowledged him at all save for the demand for his weapon. Now the inscrutable blue eyes of his beloved looked at him with the puzzlement of a stranger.
“What is it?” Aragorn finally asked.
“I cannot hear her clearly.”
“Hear her?” asked Aragorn, confused.
“I cannot hear her thoughts. There is another who is present. It is her thoughts I hear.”
“Thoughts?” asked the Man, stunned. “You mean you can …read that …thing’s …thoughts?” Aragorn shook his head, bewildered.
Besides the stunning news that his Elf was able to telepathically hear the alien’s thoughts was the surprising concept that the monster was even capable of thought. He had believed it to be nothing more than an animal. And then there was something else in what the Archer had revealed.
“What do you mean, ‘there is another present’?” asked the Man.
“It is your Queen’s thoughts I hear.” There was an odd note to this statement. It was not the neutral placid tones that Aragorn had come to expect from this Elf King.
Aragorn shook his head, “Arwen? Here?”
Aragorn swallowed, unsure what this all meant, and feeling a rush of guilt come over him at the thought of Arwen. He looked deeply at the alien expression in his beloved’s blue eyes, searching for some reflection of his Legolas. Searching for the pain he knew was there. The blue eyes blinked at him. When the Archer spoke again, it was in Legolas’s voice. Aragorn knew, for it was laced in sadness.
“She wants us both dead.”
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