Chapter 10
Gandalf led the survivors through the rubble. Elves and Men, supported each other as they carried the wounded into a chamber closer to the surface. Beneath their feet, the ground rumbled ominously.
“What was that?” whispered a soldier fearfully. They all stood silently looking in all directions for signs of danger.
“Istari, what will we do? The King is gone! We should leave this abysmal place while some of us still live!” cried an injured Man, whose tattered armor still bore the white tree of Gondor.
“We will do our duty, Soldier,” said Faramir from behind the Man. “King Aragorn is not with us for the moment but do not doubt our Liege. Both he and the King of Mirkwood are members of the original Fellowship. It was they who defeated the Dark Lord. Do not lose faith in them now. We will stay and fight. They may be depending on us to help them.”
The Gondorian looked to the Wizard who nodded encouragingly. Gandalf lifted his staff and the light reached to the farthest corner of the chamber. A shadowed tunnel led its way to the surface and to the light of day several leagues away.
“We will look to the wounded first, Faramir. Summon those left in charge of the Lórien guards and of the Wood Elves. We should carry the wounded out of these tunnels before returning to the deeper levels…”
“That would be suicide my old friend,” came a deep voice from the darkness of the tunnel.
“Elrond! You are here, my friend!” cried the Wizard as he climbed to his feet wearily and went to embrace the old Elf.
“Aye,” said Elrond who entered the circle of the Wizard’s light. Elves and Men rose to their feet, a ripple of excitement went through the defeated troops.
Elrond embraced the Wizard and cast a sad eye over the bloodied and dismal group of Elves and Men. “My friends,” said the Lord of Imladris with raised arms, “I am deeply saddened by what has befallen us. This is a great evil and an ancient power. The drones have cut this chamber off from the surface. I came through with the help of a magic that I could not summon more than once.”
“Then, My Lord Elrond, you have trapped yourself here with us!” said Faramir, who knew Aragorn would be upset to have his foster father put at risk.
“It was necessary, Faramir. I needed to come to you to bring something that may help King Legolas in his combat with the Queen of the Sky Rock.”
At the curious looks from the warriors, Elrond raised his hand and a silent presence stirred from the shadows.
“Arwen!”
Gasps and sounds of surprise escaped the Gondorians to behold their Queen. A rustling sound accompanied Arwen’s entrance into the cavern. Her black gown dragged across the gravelly floor and seemed to absorb the light of Gandalf’s staff. A troubled cloud fell over the group. Her complexion was wan and her expression drawn and blank. Only a distant light in the cold flint of her eyes told Gandalf the Queen was remotely aware of what was occurring.
“Child,” began the Wizard in alarm, but stopped at the look on Elrond’s face.
“She must stay in her trance, Gandalf. Arwen is attempting to communicate with the Queen Creature. She must convince the Queen to let Legolas and Aragorn go free and to withdraw her army, her...children, from the forests of Mirkwood.”
The Wizard frowned and gestured for Elrond to move to a discreet distance.
“What is this you say? She is speaking with the creature that Legolas is to challenge?”
At Elrond’s solemn nod, the old Man favored the Elf Lord with a disdainful look. “Forgive me, my old friend, but is it wise to allow Arwen further influence in this? Do you not think she may be tempted to…to...”
“To tell the Queen to kill Legolas?” finished Elrond.
“Obviously,” said the Wizard, squaring his shoulders to look at the Lord of Imladris unflinchingly. “Forgive me, Elrond. But your daughter blames all her grief and loss on the Mirkwood King. She summoned these foul killers for the purpose of destroying Legolas and thus revenging herself on Aragorn. I blame myself for not having seen it five years ago. But, that is the past. What concerns me now is the death toll that is rising because of these abominations.”
Elrond lowered his head, guilt and grief flashing across his face at Gandalf’s words. He gripped the Wizard’s arm, beseechingly, “I understand, Gandalf. For I feel the fault is mine, as well, for not having seen what now seems so plain to us all. I too am concerned about the innocent deaths of both Elves and Men. Nevertheless, Gandalf, Legolas may be unable to defeat this creature alone. I have looked into Arwen’s mind, Gandalf! It can’t be defeated by one Elf! Arwen could convince it to withdraw. I have searched her heart…and her mind. I must put my faith in her. Arwen will overcome her pain and do what is right.”
The scream ripped through the hot sweltering cavern and Aragorn fell to the ground as acid blood rained down on the walls and floor. The Queen wailed again, an unearthly shriek to freeze the very marrow of men’s bones. Drones gnashed viciously at the flesh of her womb as she struggled to release herself from the imprisoning flesh. Horrified, Aragorn watched in dawning awareness.
She slashed with razor sharp claws at her own bowel, rending the fatty thorax from the hardness of black muscle. The mindless production of Eggs came to a complicated and sudden halt. A howl of grief shook the cavern. Her lumbering form almost collapsed under the unpracticed legs that lifted her off the inert womb. The mewling Creature steadied herself upon a whipcord tail. Gargantuan clawed legs and long fingered arms flexed in experimentation. Power thrummed through her converted form as her wound rained copious amounts of alien blood. The Queen stomped loudly around the dead mound of flesh, nosing into the stagnant womb. Rage pumped through her leviathan form.
Her crowned head lifted in challenge revealing lethal fangs. Salivating furiously, she bared her mighty jaws in a terrifying grimace, the gargantuan head swinging to look upon the throne of the Elf King. Her drones growled in a menacing war cry as the Queen took another experimental step forward. The game was about to commence.
Aragorn cursed and scrambled to his hands and knees. The wind whipped around him and debris flew against the walls. Aragorn tried to climb to his feet again, as the Queen snarled and roared threateningly. The ground rumbled beneath them and the Man was thrown again to the floor. He glanced towards the throne but Legolas was completely obscured behind the tornado of wind and lightening. Stones rained down on them from the crumbling ceiling as the tempest blasted into the cavern. The Queen crashed with a screech into the rock wall under the wind’s onslaught.
Aragorn shielded his eyes with his hands as the flashes increased and the ground rocked beneath him. He had to get to Legolas before the Queen made her way to the helpless Elf. He tried again to push himself off the ground but the winds held him down. Movement around him told him the drones were not having as much trouble as he was. He screamed in frustration but was suddenly startled into silence by two huge booted feet that planted themselves with a resounding thud next to his head. Before Aragorn could react, another heavy body landed perilously close to his head on his other side. An enormous gloved hand gripped him by the tunic and lifted him effortlessly into the air.
The lightening storm raged around them without signs of letting up yet the warrior carried him effortlessly through the torrent of wind and flying stones. Aragorn could not see clearly who it was that dragged him so unceremoniously. Several large armored bodies seemed to materialize out of the walls themselves and vault through the storm into the black tide of alien monsters. The strange warriors, for that is what they obviously were, stood almost twice as tall as a Man or Elf and wielded metal weapons that blew fire and crackled with obscure but lethal magic.
The creatures climbed the walls and vaulted from the ceilings into the group of hunters. The giant that carried Aragorn, ignored the raging battle, as it approached the stormy vortex around the throne. It dropped the Man like a rag doll without warning to the floor as the swirling storm began to dissipate. Aragorn tried to sit up but a huge hand gripped him by the scruff of the neck and immobilized him. He raised his eyes to the throne, fearful that the incapacitated Elf would fall prey to this new menace. The sight before him stunned him into speechlessness.
Out of the swirling mist and fog, a golden hand emerged. Jewels and metal bands crossed over the pale skin of the slim arm. Red markings glistened snake-like upon the pristine flesh in animal stripes.
Four giant metal clad hunters thundered past Aragorn. They marched up to the platform and stopped before the obscured throne. Two stepped up to the dissipating vortex of light and held out gloved hands in expectation. Aragorn began to struggle in the bruising grip of the warrior that held him.
“Get away from him!” the Human screamed in fury.
The long metal sheathed fingers on his neck squeezed around his windpipe effortlessly, almost causing him to pass out. He stopped his struggling at once as black spots danced before his eyes. When the darkness had cleared from his vision once again, he beheld an astounding and most alluring sight.
The being that was led from the golden throne of Mirkwood may have been Legolas or one of the Sindar’s ancient ancestors. The beautiful golden hair was now arranged in massive twisted dread locks and smaller braids that flowed down the curve of the bared back. The mysterious golden warrior was fitted with a headdress of soaring feathers that fanned brightly around the glowing blonde head. Each thick braid was capped in metal ornaments of claws, and talons. Red warrior paint covered the Elf’s naked form in symbols of ancient power. They seemed to move and flex upon his flesh, becoming bands of living light that now reminding Aragorn of a great predatory cat.
Intricate bands of metallic ornamentation criss crossed the Elf’s muscled arms and legs. A metallic meshed loincloth draped across the gentle swell of the Elf’s hips. A mithril belt, ornamented in the ancient Sindar style with eagle feathers, talons and spider fangs, rode snuggly on the flare of the Elf’s hipbones. Silver rings pierced nectar sweet nipples.
Finally, the Elf’s brow was circled in a braided crown of gold and mithril. The elegant lace work of precious metal fanned around the point of the ears and swirled down his brow and around his eyes in a feline mask, resembling a great cat. The Elf’s sapphire eyes shone alluringly bright behind the mithril headdress, in eerie imitation of the blue glowing stones that now hung suspended around the Elf’s throat by a single chain.
Aragorn gasped at the incredible sight of the gorgeous and lethal looking creature. The Elf seemed to be in a trance and did not look at him.
“Don’t touch him!” screamed the Man in fear as the two hunters towered over the Elf.
The slender Elf however took no notice and allowed himself to be escorted off the stage. The powerful hunters grasped the Elf’s pale white hands with surprising gentleness. Aragorn stopped struggling and gaped in amazement.
“Legolas!” he yelled at the Elf.
But the transformed Sindar took no notice of him. A fifth, large and heavily armed hunter approached the Elf. This one was oddly fair haired. Aragorn guessed by the number of ornaments in the thick blond dreads, that he may have been one in authority. The warrior’s face was hidden behind the metal faceplate. Aragorn shuddered as he thought back on the carvings, which earlier he had taken to be purely symbolic.
The thing stood before the transfixed Elf and held out a long lethal looking blade. The Archer gripped the hinged device and pierced it through a loop in his belt. The large being then took a subordinate station behind the Elf’s shoulder. Aragorn gaped in amazement.
Clearly, these predators held powers beyond any race that the Dúnadan had ever known to exist in Middle Earth. Strangely enough, they seemed to respect the Sovereignty of the Mirkwood King. He did not have time to consider the implications further.
Aragorn’s thoughts were interrupted by growls and screams from the battle that still raged behind them. He tried to turn in the grasp of the warrior that still held him tightly to see what was happening. Black bodies laid unmoving among the scattering of smashed Eggs. The Queen Creature had two bodies of the towering hunters torn to pieces at her feet. Another shot her with blue flames from a long metal spear. She roared in pain and lumbered out of sight down a dark tunnel.
Aragorn turned back to Legolas. The procession of hunters and the Elf King began to pass him by. Aragorn struggled again in the warrior’s grip.
“Legolas! Look at me, Mellon Nin. Its me, Aragorn!” He tried to kick his way free but was stopped easily by the thing that held him. It gave him an annoyed shake that almost rattled the Man’s teeth loose.
Legolas stopped his forward movement and turned blank eyes to look at the Man curiously.
“Leave him,” said the Elf indifferently. The cerulean gaze returned to the remains of the small battle in the chamber before them. The Elf walked past the Man who was dumped onto the floor once again. Aragorn’s eyes followed the toned muscular thighs and the round tight buttocks as the seductive creature sauntered past. The Elf Lord stopped to survey the carnage.
“Kill the drones. Burn the Nests,” continued the glowing Elf in a calm voice. He turned to face the massive hunter. A strange malevolent gleam played unnaturally in the shifting blue orbs. Even from behind the beautiful mask, it shone forth eerily.
Aragorn gaped at his beloved in growing anxiety. Who was this Prehistoric Elf King? The Man climbed slowly to his feet.
“Legolas?” Aragorn tried again, fear edging into his voice. But it was evident that the Man was considered negligible in the unfolding drama.
The large ornamented warrior walked past the Man and faced the Elf. A high pitched whine emerged from its mask intermixed with clicks and tuts. The hunter shook his hoary blond head as he spoke in the foreign tongue. Legolas bent his head is if in consideration.
“Leave the Queen for me,” said the Elf, a cold smile upon his full lips. The eyes blazed with the blue fire of the sky rocks.
Aragorn mutely shook his head, horrified by this transformation in his sweet Elf. “No…it will kill you, Mellon Nin…” but his whisper fell on deaf ears.
The beautiful Archer sauntered through the bloodied chamber, anticipation and desire evident in the swaying movements of his slender muscled form. The blond warrior stepped forth and held out a long lance like device. The Elf took the gleaming weapon and began to stride purposely toward the tunnel after the escaping Queen, leaving the predators behind to finish off her offspring.
“Legolas! Listen to me!” yelled the Man, running frantically behind the retreating golden figure. With a curse upon his lips, Aragorn latched onto one of the mysterious metal weapons and ran desperately into the black tunnel after his Elf.
“What was that?” whispered a soldier fearfully. They all stood silently looking in all directions for signs of danger.
“Istari, what will we do? The King is gone! We should leave this abysmal place while some of us still live!” cried an injured Man, whose tattered armor still bore the white tree of Gondor.
“We will do our duty, Soldier,” said Faramir from behind the Man. “King Aragorn is not with us for the moment but do not doubt our Liege. Both he and the King of Mirkwood are members of the original Fellowship. It was they who defeated the Dark Lord. Do not lose faith in them now. We will stay and fight. They may be depending on us to help them.”
The Gondorian looked to the Wizard who nodded encouragingly. Gandalf lifted his staff and the light reached to the farthest corner of the chamber. A shadowed tunnel led its way to the surface and to the light of day several leagues away.
“We will look to the wounded first, Faramir. Summon those left in charge of the Lórien guards and of the Wood Elves. We should carry the wounded out of these tunnels before returning to the deeper levels…”
“That would be suicide my old friend,” came a deep voice from the darkness of the tunnel.
“Elrond! You are here, my friend!” cried the Wizard as he climbed to his feet wearily and went to embrace the old Elf.
“Aye,” said Elrond who entered the circle of the Wizard’s light. Elves and Men rose to their feet, a ripple of excitement went through the defeated troops.
Elrond embraced the Wizard and cast a sad eye over the bloodied and dismal group of Elves and Men. “My friends,” said the Lord of Imladris with raised arms, “I am deeply saddened by what has befallen us. This is a great evil and an ancient power. The drones have cut this chamber off from the surface. I came through with the help of a magic that I could not summon more than once.”
“Then, My Lord Elrond, you have trapped yourself here with us!” said Faramir, who knew Aragorn would be upset to have his foster father put at risk.
“It was necessary, Faramir. I needed to come to you to bring something that may help King Legolas in his combat with the Queen of the Sky Rock.”
At the curious looks from the warriors, Elrond raised his hand and a silent presence stirred from the shadows.
“Arwen!”
Gasps and sounds of surprise escaped the Gondorians to behold their Queen. A rustling sound accompanied Arwen’s entrance into the cavern. Her black gown dragged across the gravelly floor and seemed to absorb the light of Gandalf’s staff. A troubled cloud fell over the group. Her complexion was wan and her expression drawn and blank. Only a distant light in the cold flint of her eyes told Gandalf the Queen was remotely aware of what was occurring.
“Child,” began the Wizard in alarm, but stopped at the look on Elrond’s face.
“She must stay in her trance, Gandalf. Arwen is attempting to communicate with the Queen Creature. She must convince the Queen to let Legolas and Aragorn go free and to withdraw her army, her...children, from the forests of Mirkwood.”
The Wizard frowned and gestured for Elrond to move to a discreet distance.
“What is this you say? She is speaking with the creature that Legolas is to challenge?”
At Elrond’s solemn nod, the old Man favored the Elf Lord with a disdainful look. “Forgive me, my old friend, but is it wise to allow Arwen further influence in this? Do you not think she may be tempted to…to...”
“To tell the Queen to kill Legolas?” finished Elrond.
“Obviously,” said the Wizard, squaring his shoulders to look at the Lord of Imladris unflinchingly. “Forgive me, Elrond. But your daughter blames all her grief and loss on the Mirkwood King. She summoned these foul killers for the purpose of destroying Legolas and thus revenging herself on Aragorn. I blame myself for not having seen it five years ago. But, that is the past. What concerns me now is the death toll that is rising because of these abominations.”
Elrond lowered his head, guilt and grief flashing across his face at Gandalf’s words. He gripped the Wizard’s arm, beseechingly, “I understand, Gandalf. For I feel the fault is mine, as well, for not having seen what now seems so plain to us all. I too am concerned about the innocent deaths of both Elves and Men. Nevertheless, Gandalf, Legolas may be unable to defeat this creature alone. I have looked into Arwen’s mind, Gandalf! It can’t be defeated by one Elf! Arwen could convince it to withdraw. I have searched her heart…and her mind. I must put my faith in her. Arwen will overcome her pain and do what is right.”
The scream ripped through the hot sweltering cavern and Aragorn fell to the ground as acid blood rained down on the walls and floor. The Queen wailed again, an unearthly shriek to freeze the very marrow of men’s bones. Drones gnashed viciously at the flesh of her womb as she struggled to release herself from the imprisoning flesh. Horrified, Aragorn watched in dawning awareness.
She slashed with razor sharp claws at her own bowel, rending the fatty thorax from the hardness of black muscle. The mindless production of Eggs came to a complicated and sudden halt. A howl of grief shook the cavern. Her lumbering form almost collapsed under the unpracticed legs that lifted her off the inert womb. The mewling Creature steadied herself upon a whipcord tail. Gargantuan clawed legs and long fingered arms flexed in experimentation. Power thrummed through her converted form as her wound rained copious amounts of alien blood. The Queen stomped loudly around the dead mound of flesh, nosing into the stagnant womb. Rage pumped through her leviathan form.
Her crowned head lifted in challenge revealing lethal fangs. Salivating furiously, she bared her mighty jaws in a terrifying grimace, the gargantuan head swinging to look upon the throne of the Elf King. Her drones growled in a menacing war cry as the Queen took another experimental step forward. The game was about to commence.
Aragorn cursed and scrambled to his hands and knees. The wind whipped around him and debris flew against the walls. Aragorn tried to climb to his feet again, as the Queen snarled and roared threateningly. The ground rumbled beneath them and the Man was thrown again to the floor. He glanced towards the throne but Legolas was completely obscured behind the tornado of wind and lightening. Stones rained down on them from the crumbling ceiling as the tempest blasted into the cavern. The Queen crashed with a screech into the rock wall under the wind’s onslaught.
Aragorn shielded his eyes with his hands as the flashes increased and the ground rocked beneath him. He had to get to Legolas before the Queen made her way to the helpless Elf. He tried again to push himself off the ground but the winds held him down. Movement around him told him the drones were not having as much trouble as he was. He screamed in frustration but was suddenly startled into silence by two huge booted feet that planted themselves with a resounding thud next to his head. Before Aragorn could react, another heavy body landed perilously close to his head on his other side. An enormous gloved hand gripped him by the tunic and lifted him effortlessly into the air.
The lightening storm raged around them without signs of letting up yet the warrior carried him effortlessly through the torrent of wind and flying stones. Aragorn could not see clearly who it was that dragged him so unceremoniously. Several large armored bodies seemed to materialize out of the walls themselves and vault through the storm into the black tide of alien monsters. The strange warriors, for that is what they obviously were, stood almost twice as tall as a Man or Elf and wielded metal weapons that blew fire and crackled with obscure but lethal magic.
The creatures climbed the walls and vaulted from the ceilings into the group of hunters. The giant that carried Aragorn, ignored the raging battle, as it approached the stormy vortex around the throne. It dropped the Man like a rag doll without warning to the floor as the swirling storm began to dissipate. Aragorn tried to sit up but a huge hand gripped him by the scruff of the neck and immobilized him. He raised his eyes to the throne, fearful that the incapacitated Elf would fall prey to this new menace. The sight before him stunned him into speechlessness.
Out of the swirling mist and fog, a golden hand emerged. Jewels and metal bands crossed over the pale skin of the slim arm. Red markings glistened snake-like upon the pristine flesh in animal stripes.
Four giant metal clad hunters thundered past Aragorn. They marched up to the platform and stopped before the obscured throne. Two stepped up to the dissipating vortex of light and held out gloved hands in expectation. Aragorn began to struggle in the bruising grip of the warrior that held him.
“Get away from him!” the Human screamed in fury.
The long metal sheathed fingers on his neck squeezed around his windpipe effortlessly, almost causing him to pass out. He stopped his struggling at once as black spots danced before his eyes. When the darkness had cleared from his vision once again, he beheld an astounding and most alluring sight.
The being that was led from the golden throne of Mirkwood may have been Legolas or one of the Sindar’s ancient ancestors. The beautiful golden hair was now arranged in massive twisted dread locks and smaller braids that flowed down the curve of the bared back. The mysterious golden warrior was fitted with a headdress of soaring feathers that fanned brightly around the glowing blonde head. Each thick braid was capped in metal ornaments of claws, and talons. Red warrior paint covered the Elf’s naked form in symbols of ancient power. They seemed to move and flex upon his flesh, becoming bands of living light that now reminding Aragorn of a great predatory cat.
Intricate bands of metallic ornamentation criss crossed the Elf’s muscled arms and legs. A metallic meshed loincloth draped across the gentle swell of the Elf’s hips. A mithril belt, ornamented in the ancient Sindar style with eagle feathers, talons and spider fangs, rode snuggly on the flare of the Elf’s hipbones. Silver rings pierced nectar sweet nipples.
Finally, the Elf’s brow was circled in a braided crown of gold and mithril. The elegant lace work of precious metal fanned around the point of the ears and swirled down his brow and around his eyes in a feline mask, resembling a great cat. The Elf’s sapphire eyes shone alluringly bright behind the mithril headdress, in eerie imitation of the blue glowing stones that now hung suspended around the Elf’s throat by a single chain.
Aragorn gasped at the incredible sight of the gorgeous and lethal looking creature. The Elf seemed to be in a trance and did not look at him.
“Don’t touch him!” screamed the Man in fear as the two hunters towered over the Elf.
The slender Elf however took no notice and allowed himself to be escorted off the stage. The powerful hunters grasped the Elf’s pale white hands with surprising gentleness. Aragorn stopped struggling and gaped in amazement.
“Legolas!” he yelled at the Elf.
But the transformed Sindar took no notice of him. A fifth, large and heavily armed hunter approached the Elf. This one was oddly fair haired. Aragorn guessed by the number of ornaments in the thick blond dreads, that he may have been one in authority. The warrior’s face was hidden behind the metal faceplate. Aragorn shuddered as he thought back on the carvings, which earlier he had taken to be purely symbolic.
The thing stood before the transfixed Elf and held out a long lethal looking blade. The Archer gripped the hinged device and pierced it through a loop in his belt. The large being then took a subordinate station behind the Elf’s shoulder. Aragorn gaped in amazement.
Clearly, these predators held powers beyond any race that the Dúnadan had ever known to exist in Middle Earth. Strangely enough, they seemed to respect the Sovereignty of the Mirkwood King. He did not have time to consider the implications further.
Aragorn’s thoughts were interrupted by growls and screams from the battle that still raged behind them. He tried to turn in the grasp of the warrior that still held him tightly to see what was happening. Black bodies laid unmoving among the scattering of smashed Eggs. The Queen Creature had two bodies of the towering hunters torn to pieces at her feet. Another shot her with blue flames from a long metal spear. She roared in pain and lumbered out of sight down a dark tunnel.
Aragorn turned back to Legolas. The procession of hunters and the Elf King began to pass him by. Aragorn struggled again in the warrior’s grip.
“Legolas! Look at me, Mellon Nin. Its me, Aragorn!” He tried to kick his way free but was stopped easily by the thing that held him. It gave him an annoyed shake that almost rattled the Man’s teeth loose.
Legolas stopped his forward movement and turned blank eyes to look at the Man curiously.
“Leave him,” said the Elf indifferently. The cerulean gaze returned to the remains of the small battle in the chamber before them. The Elf walked past the Man who was dumped onto the floor once again. Aragorn’s eyes followed the toned muscular thighs and the round tight buttocks as the seductive creature sauntered past. The Elf Lord stopped to survey the carnage.
“Kill the drones. Burn the Nests,” continued the glowing Elf in a calm voice. He turned to face the massive hunter. A strange malevolent gleam played unnaturally in the shifting blue orbs. Even from behind the beautiful mask, it shone forth eerily.
Aragorn gaped at his beloved in growing anxiety. Who was this Prehistoric Elf King? The Man climbed slowly to his feet.
“Legolas?” Aragorn tried again, fear edging into his voice. But it was evident that the Man was considered negligible in the unfolding drama.
The large ornamented warrior walked past the Man and faced the Elf. A high pitched whine emerged from its mask intermixed with clicks and tuts. The hunter shook his hoary blond head as he spoke in the foreign tongue. Legolas bent his head is if in consideration.
“Leave the Queen for me,” said the Elf, a cold smile upon his full lips. The eyes blazed with the blue fire of the sky rocks.
Aragorn mutely shook his head, horrified by this transformation in his sweet Elf. “No…it will kill you, Mellon Nin…” but his whisper fell on deaf ears.
The beautiful Archer sauntered through the bloodied chamber, anticipation and desire evident in the swaying movements of his slender muscled form. The blond warrior stepped forth and held out a long lance like device. The Elf took the gleaming weapon and began to stride purposely toward the tunnel after the escaping Queen, leaving the predators behind to finish off her offspring.
“Legolas! Listen to me!” yelled the Man, running frantically behind the retreating golden figure. With a curse upon his lips, Aragorn latched onto one of the mysterious metal weapons and ran desperately into the black tunnel after his Elf.
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